Eight Hours Early
by AmyNChan
Summary: Train's been released from his confinement eight hours earlier than planned. What impact does this have on the universe of Black Cat that we know and love? Story based on events of the manga.
1. Chapter 1

_**AmyNChan: *pops back into this fandom* Hey, all!**_

 _ ***new Black Cat fans*: WHO ARE YOU AND WHY DO YOU ACT LIKE WE SHOULD KNOW YOU?!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: ehe… I guess I have changed my name since I was last here… ^^; This is a rewrite of one of my older stories, What If, that I had put up for adoption. If I'm being 100% heartbreakingly honest, the ending that was placed on my story absolutely crushed me. I couldn't stop crying over it for a very long while.**_

 _ ***everyone else*: SO WHAT?!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: So, all these years later, I'm gonna rewrite it myself. And this time, I'm gonna finish it. If anyone wants to come along for the ride, feel free. I'm gonna leave the last version up, but this will be new, improved, and—most importantly—finished. XD**_

 _ **Train: 14AmyChan/AmyNChan doesn't own Black Cat. XD**_

At twenty one years of age, he had been known as a killing machine. A living creature who was nothing more than the murdering hand of the council of Elders. He had been known to strike with deadly precision, giving no room for mercy with his fatal blows. He had been a ruthless figure draped in black, the only pinpricks of light piercing his shroud of darkness being his brilliant orange eyes. Those eyes that gave him his name.

But the Black Cat was changing. Ever since he had tasted something that he quickly developed a rapid addiction to.

Freedom.

It was this freedom that had led him to his current situation. Stuck in the jailhouse of the 'masters' he had once so mindlessly obeyed. This dismal grey cell had been his home for the past nine days and would continue to be so for the next eighteen hours.

 _At least it has a bed..._ he thought, continuing to make himself comfortable on the said furniture piece. It was the only thing he could really do in this concrete confinement other than work with Hades for the umpteenth time.

A tray was slipped inside. The clattering of noise did nothing for his stomach and the food upon it did even less. It was gross and the only thing this man wished to do was to leave this world of endless greed and murder behind. To cut the collar Chronos had cast upon him completely.

He wished to leave as Train Heartnet, a man free from any bindings he could have incurred in this hellhole. He wanted to cut all ties save one. The entire reason he now longed for freedom was something he simply would not part with.

The man smiled softly as he thought about that woman, his 'food' steadily growing all the colder.

* * *

The click of her shoes was the first thing he heard.

"Heartnet."

That was the second. Train turned to see the captain of the Chronos numbers standing there in all her composed and uniformed glory. To her side flanked Belze, the ever-faithful number two.

"Gee, I didn't realize you missed me so much," Train said, a grin coming out to play despite his surprise. "You would have seen me go in about eight hours."

"You have been permitted to leave confinement early," Sephiria informed. Belze made a noise in the back of his throat that caught Train's attention. Before he could contemplate on it further, the captain once again spoke. "While you are permitted to leave, Hades must remain here. Your actions will be limited severely."

Sephiria's hand waited patiently.

 _I've had Hades ever since I was initiated into the Numbers. No one will ever know this gun as well as I do. If I turn this over now I will never go back_ , Train thought, his finger tracing the red tassel on the end of his most trustworthy weapon. The metal shone its natural black hue, even in this dark and confined space. He smiled with a somewhat bittersweet heart as he passed the gun along. _But that's the point._

"Stay out of trouble," Belze warned as soon as he and Sepheria led him out of Chronos's catacomb prison. Not that the young man needed it; he knew the entire floor plan by heart.

"I can't promise that," Train said as he left the building for the last time, welcoming the sun's warm rays. A sharp contrast to the sharp chill that always draped itself over Chronos.

"He's changed, hasn't he?" Belze asked as the brown-haried man walked away from them, turning his back on the only lifestyle he had ever known. Sephiria did not respond to the question verbally. Instead, she tucked Heartnet's weapon into her jacket and turned to do her next assignment. Belze followed her lead without question.

* * *

Inbox full

Train could only look at the message on his tiny little flip-phone. And blink. Twice. Three times. And gulp. And wonder just how badly he was screwed.

Saya Minatsuki, the woman who had introduced him to concepts such as freedom and fun, was the only person who had this number. The phone was new and Chronos could have no viable of its existence. And given that nobody _else_ knew of his existence, much less his phone...

The device beeped at him, demanding to be listened to. He decided to hear the latest message in order to see what he was up against exactly.

" _Train, if you don't answer this phone right now, I swear I'm going to—"_

If the tone of voice did not scare him, the way the phone seemed to have cut off in _just_ the right place certainly did. That was never a good sign. He checked a message before that.

" _Train! Pick up your phone! A text, something! When you get back we're gonna have a conversation about letting your friends know when you decide to go and skip town!"_

He pressed a few buttons on his phone to see when these delightful messages were sent. Three days ago.

 _How long has she been trying to get through?_ He only wondered a moment before his silent question was answered by a familiar ring. He could let it go to an inbox that was already full and give her time to cool off or he could answer it now and get the brunt of it over with on his way home.

He hit the button to answer the phone. It was better to get it over with now. Besides, if she had not calmed down by now, there was no way a few hours would do anything to lighten the load of anger.

"Hey Saya," he greeted casually.

" _Train! Where have you been?"_ Saya asked from the other side of the connection. _"I've been trying to reach you for days!"_

"I got into a bit of trouble."

" _Trouble? With who? Are you okay?"_

"I'm fine. I'll tell you what happened when I get back."

" _Mou… you better hurry, Train! I have snacks!"_

The line then went dead in Train's ear. He blinked before slipping it back into his pocket. And she harped on _him_ for bad manners.

* * *

"Diskenth," the second Number said, calling the assassin forward. Creed paid him little mind. He was preoccupied with one thing and one thing alone. Train was out of confinement far sooner than planned. The man with the silver hair grit his teeth. It was that witch's fault.

"Diskenth! A new assignment!" he barked once more. Creed turned a disgusted eye at the man. A new assignment indeed.

Perhaps now was a good time for an assassination. Or two. That damned witch would pay dearly.

* * *

Train knocked on Saya's door as he was accustomed to. The woman almost never wasted a second when it came to guests; even with as rarely as she received them. This appeared to be one of those instances where she could make the person wait for as long as she liked.

"Saya, if you're trying to make me wait as retribution, it won't work," Train said to the door, knowing she would be lying in wait for him. He waited impatiently and wondered briefly if the girl had gone out of town for another sweeping job or if she had perhaps gotten herself shot after all.

"If you got shot—"

"How much faith do you have in me, exactly?" a familiar voice chastised from the left. He turned to see the woman's head popping out of his own apartment. He rose an eyebrow, but he need not worried about her not explaining. She always seemed to have something to say. "It wasn't locked, so I thought I might do some house sitting for you. It's only fair. Don't worry, I didn't touch anything important."

There was nothing important in that apartment; she must have touched everything. He followed her inside.

"What are you really doing here?" he asked as the door clicked shut behind him. His kitchen was filled with grocery bags. Each one—he was sure—held at least three different types of snack foods. The woman grinned cheekily.

"House sitting," she answered. "And waiting for you to tell me why you decided to drop off the face of the planet for so long. And not even a phone call? Really? If I had half a mind I'd slap you right now for being so inconsiderate!"

"Are you telling me that you don't have half a mind?" he quipped. That one got him a slap on the head. It did not hurt, but the nineteen year old sweeper woman was fuming.

" _That_ was just mean," she said. Train merely grinned as she continued to rage at him nonverbally. When she had calmed down a little bit, she continued with something slightly more sensible. "When you were on the phone earlier, you said you got in a fight?"

Like that, he knew it was time to explain. His joking tone eased down a little bit and he recalled what exactly had gotten him into such trouble in the first place. Mercy. Freedom. Independent thought. And he knew it was worth it. Being his own man was worth the consequences he would probably continue to face.

"Chronos doesn't like how I've been dealing with my assignments lately so they decided to put me in a time-out and take my gun," he explained. Though his words were light, the message behind them was somber. Saya seemed to take it in stride. "The head of the numbers…I'm pretty sure she let me out early without anyone's permission, though I don't know why."

"I thought you said she always followed her instructions to the letter?" the woman recalled.

"She does. She's the Elders' favorite, I think," Train said. He frowned. "I think she wants me out of there. If there's anyone who picked up on what's been happening with me, it would be her. She'd know I wouldn't tangle with Chronos or spill their secrets, so she might not see a reason to kill me unless the Elders demanded it. She might be using her power to give me a choice. The Elders wouldn't suspect her to do that, so she'd be off scott-free."

"Why do you think that?" Saya asked. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to her if she actually is doing that for you, but if she follows her assignments down to the letter, what do you think will happen if you're forced to tangle?"

"She'll show me no mercy and do her best to kill me," Train said plainly. He took one of the snacks and opened it up. He took a bite as if this were a normal occurrence. "As to why I think that, let's just say that number II likes to choose when to be secretive and when not to be."

Saya seemed to mull the information over, carefully taking it into consideration. Train did not rush her, but chose to eat yet another snack. He wondered if she had planned to take them back to her place later had he not come back so soon. He did not see a toothbrush or overnight clothes, so it was entirely possible that she returned to her apartment for the night and only watched his during the day.

"Does this mean you're quitting your job?" she asked. Had it been anyone else, he would be certain they would be too ashamed of asking to even look him in the eye. That was one of the reasons he was glad this was Saya. She at least had the dignity to look at him squarely with those honest eyes of hers. "You said it wasn't that simple last time we spoke. But now that it is… what do you want to do?"

Train thought about it for a moment and smiled. He had a choice. A viable option to disappear from Chronos. He cast his gaze out of the window, knowing that if he left he would most likely never return.

"I'd like to stay long enough for the festival," he decided. A split-second decision. The first of many, he hoped. "After that, I think I'll leave this town. What about you? Chronos may know about you, and if they even suspect you of being behind what's going on—"

"Ah, that reminds me," she said, interrupting him. "I was going to tell you earlier, but you went ahead and got put in time-out. I was already planning on moving. Payment plan on the apartment is already set and I'm mostly packed."

"Packed already?" he asked, bewildered. "Where were you planning on going?"

She shrugged, a grin on her face. "Anywhere and nowhere. I didn't really think that far yet. I've already made my mark on this town, so it's time to pack up and move on. Try something new, ya'know?"

Train nodded, but his mind was moving swiftly. She had already planned on moving away. Perhaps he should cut all ties to this life of his, after all? No, he did not want that. He would at least like to spend more time with Saya before her move. She was truly his only friend, but she was also as free as he wished to be. Would keeping her close be one of those burdensome ties down she spent her time attempting to avoid? The same ones he was trying to sever now?

"But the thing is…" she continued. "If you're leaving too, we could travel together. It'd be fun!"

"When were you planning on skipping town?" he asked. Previous thoughts of leaving her behind after all vanished from his mind as she took a moment to think.

"Honestly, I was waiting for you to come back so I could talk to you, but I paid to stay as long as tomorrow afternoon," she said, a finger on her chin. "So if you wanna hit the festival, we could do that. A night of fun before we skip this place for good."

She smiled with a spark in her eye and a carefree air about her. She reached over to one of the grocery bags and took a round snack from it. He watched as she ate into it with no cares in the world and smiled.

He was one step closer to his freedom. And he was happy with that.

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

He walked calmly through the building as though he had every right in the world to be there. To an onlooker he was scanning doors, possibly looking for the entrance that would lead to a relative or friend. He quickly found it, however, and stepped politely forward. His hand raised to knock twice, then let it fall down to his side.

There was nothing behind the door. No sound, nor any sort of indicator that his prey was present.

With anger flashing through his eyes, he raised his foot to kick the wooden slab into pieces.

* * *

"What do you think that was?" Saya asked. She and Train had spent most of the afternoon deciding whether or not to go north, south, east, or west in their impromptu adventure. She was favorable towards the ocean while Train wanted to explore the forested area near their town a bit.

The splintering crack from just down the hall broke their contemplation.

"Dunno, I'll check it out," Train answered. Before she could protest or talk about coming along, he disappeared out the door.

Saya frowned. There was a good chance that Chronos had been sent after him after realizing him gone. The festival was due to start in a few minutes, right at the time he was supposed to have been released from his cell from what he had told her. It was quite possible that the leaders had sent one of their own to dispose of Train.

She checked to make sure her gun was still safely stashed in her yukata. It was. She walked towards the front door, preparing for a fight. What she did not expect was Train to come back and grab her wrist, pulling her in towards the only window in the apartment above his couch.

"Train—"

"Looks like we won't get a chance to hang around for the festival," he muttered. The window opened smoothly, unlike when she had tried many times over the past week and had found it unyielding. "Even worse, that was one of Chronos's assassins knocking at your door."

"Wait, so that huge crash was—"

"Your apartment," he finished for her.

"I can finish my own sentences," she protested as she followed him outside. He was kind enough to wait for her on the ground. She knew he could run much faster than she, but he was not running yet. He was trying to blend in with his surroundings. She did the same, walking at a casual pace as if they had not just come down about four stories via jumping out of a window. She looked around and saw a few people already coming out of the woodwork to watch the fireworks that would happen later that night. "Train, this assassin they've sent… will he care about the civilians?"

"Probably not. He's a nutjob. From what I heard from his ranting, he's acting on his own, too," he said. They made their way through the crowd at a pace that was at once hurried and somehow not alarming. Yet. They maneuvered around a small group of people as they walked down the street.

"Then we should find some place more isolated to fight. Somewhere where he can't take a hostage if things go bad," she said. "My first instinct would be to find an alleyway just in case I needed a few tricks."

"It's a festival, Saya," Train said as he led the two through a bit of a heavy crowd. "Alleyways are used as shortcuts for kids and stuff. Trust me, an alleyway is the _last_ place you want to fight him."

She supposed he knew this from the multiple assassinations he had completed.

"Into the woods, then?" she asked. She could already see the tree line approaching at a steady pace.

"Into the woods," he agreed. She was about to say something when he suddenly stiffened and stopped. She would have asked why had she not seen it. Or rather, her.

She was beautiful. About her height and short blonde hair. Her eyes were obscured by the mere fact that she was turned away from them, but she saw enough to see that her face was heart-shaped. Her voice was soft yet perfectly clear. Her posture screamed that of a natural leader.

"Heartnet. Whatever lifestyle you choose, know that it will be observed by the council. You will be closely monitored and should you choose to make yourself a threat, you will be ended. Along with your life, you may leave with Hades. It is no longer a weapon of Chronos."

Saya watched as the woman passed Train a gun. The very same one she had seen him carry on his person all the time. The one she had returned to him upon meeting him and healing him. It was strange to know it had not been with him, but she wondered if he would accept it now. Now that he was leaving.

"Chronos isn't known to just _let people go_ ," Train said as he took the gun back. Its black metal somehow managed to reflect the colorful lights that were already exploding in the sky. How had she not noticed them? "Not in this sense, at least."

"The elders still see potential in you," she said. "Should you choose to return into their fold, they would rather have your talent preserved than wasted."

"And you?" Saya asked. A firework popped in the air, showering them all in its colorful lights. "Where do you stand on this ordeal?"

There would have been silence for the next few moments. Instead, there was the chatter of friends as they passed to go to a food stand. Instead, there was a family of five who were walking leisurely towards a game. Instead, there was a baby's cry and a mother's consolation. Instead, another firework popped in the air. Instead, there was the ambience of normalcy where the tension of life-and-death should have existed.

"You've tasted freedom. And freedom has changed you," the woman said. "And if you are to protect your freedom, you will need a chance and a gun. What you do with these opportunities is entirely up to you. Goodbye, Heartnet. Farewell, Saya Minatsuki."

Before either of them could say another word, the woman was gone.

"That was quick. I guess I know where you learned it from," she said, only taking a moment to glance at the spot where the leader of the Chronos numbers had once stood. She did not have long to marvel as Train had taken her by the hand and begun walking once more. "Train?"

"Chronos knows about you and we still have an assassin on our tail," he said by way of explaining. "We'll deal with him in the woods and then figure out what to do next."

The way he spoke about it was difficult to describe. Unhurried, as though he were planning his next move with cold tact. Forceful, as though he were thinking of something unpleasant. Strained, which is a tone of voice she had never heard before.

She could not decipher it, but she would go along with it. She would see for herself just how much Train had changed over the past three months.

 _ **AmyNChan: So, the intro's a bit different and I've already swallowed about four chapters. XDD Anyhoot, I hope you all enjoy even though you know what's to come. *^_^***_

 _ **Saya: Please read and review!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_AmyNChan: I'm baaaack~! *^_^*_**

 ** _Train: What took you so long?_**

 ** _AmyNChan: School, work, sleep, eat, school, work, sleep, eat, maybe a bit of writing…_**

 ** _Train: Ah._**

 ** _AmyNChan: Yeah… XD In any event, here's the next chapter! *^_^*_**

 ** _Train: Amy-chan doesn't own Black Cat!_**

They were not in the woods for more than five minutes when they felt it. The indisputable sense of being followed. Train had honed his ability from many years of killing. Saya from years of pain and sweeping. Neither questioned the feeling, but took great heed of it.

Train checked above normal eye level with Hades firmly in hand. It was the first lesson of any learning assassin. When afraid, many people often checked around them at the ground or eye level. Staring outward or downward as if they somehow held the higher ground. The most obvious way to take advantage of such an instinct would be to situate yourself far above eye level. From the tops of buildings, ceilings, upper floors, or even trees.

And there were several of them in which to hide now.

Saya, on the other hand, kept to her instinct. She glanced about every shadow she could find—above, eye-level, and anywhere below. Her pistol, a Beretta '94, was held securely in her hands. It was loaded with bullets that she had specially crafted to suit her purposes.

"Running away?" a voice called. To Saya, it was unfamiliar. To Train, it was an irksome thing that was extremely unwelcome. "Is that all a witch is good for?"

Saya did not say a word in response, but looked at the surrounding trees. The trees could amplify sound slightly, which gave their pursuer a few more places to hide and a few more trees to take cover behind. She glanced up towards the canopy. There were many sturdy branches there that one could easily stand upon. If only—

A firework granted her unspoken wish. Perhaps the person launching it was not as careful as he should have been. Perhaps this firework was more potent than the rest. Perhaps it was even the finale. Regardless, it gave her just enough light to see the treetops.

There, behind them and to their right, stood the man. Though far, she could tell he was of average height, possibly five foot nine or six foot. His hair was a bright contrast to his surroundings as was his coat. The white stood out against his shirt, which appeared to have leopard print. Black slacks and shoes seemed to finish his clothing choices, but his choice of accessory appeared to be impractical for a gunfight. A long sword that was clenched tightly in his fist.

 _That deadly focus…_ she thought. Even from several meters away she could sense his bloodlust. Those eyes were ravenous and stared at her as though she were the last morsel in the entire country.

It was not a feeling she enjoyed, to put it mildly.

"What are you doing, Creed?" Train asked. Saya managed to not shudder at the sound. Although quiet, her dear friend sounded absolutely livid.

Perhaps that was worse than shouting.

"Train!" the man, Creed, shouted. In the brief moment that his eyes flickered to Train, Saya saw what could only be described as pure ecstasy. Like a kid who had gotten the most amazing present for Christmas. But the moment passed and his eyes had returned to her, perhaps more murderous than before. "This witch has corrupted you! She must die!"

"Are you insane?" Train yelled.

The man was gone. Saya had blinked and he was no longer there. She rose her swiftly gun to shield the side opposite Train and was surprised when she heard the clang of metal. When she turned to face him, he was all too close.

"Absolutely not!" he yelled. The woman sweeper shoved her gun forward while retreating to a safe distance. It was a gamble, but her train of thought had been well-rewarded. The assassin known as 'Creed' only followed her with those eyes. Those eyes that could very well resemble a wild animal.

"Train! Move!" she cried, firing her gun. Fortunately, her friend knew exactly what was happening and did as she had said. Unfortunately, the ante seemed to have been raised in Creed's eyes.

"There! My point! This witch—"

His accusation was cut off by a surprised yelp of pain. He looked down to see that a bullet had penetrated his left leg. The silver haired man looked up, eyes ablaze and fangs bared.

"Why you—!"

She wasted no time with her next two shots. While the woods were less than ideal for these sort of shots, these woods were special. They were her practicing grounds.

"It's tough to dodge a ricocheting bullet, huh?" she asked as she pulled her gun in closer. "Train knows you mean business, so that would mean you're a man of great skill. You would have parried my shot away if I simply shot straight at you, probably even from this range."

She would have felt a bit more smug in her slight victory had the man not started walking towards her. Her eyes widened. It was extremely difficult to fire a ricochet in the woods, even with her sample sheets of metal still lying about out here. Trees would normally absorb shots through their bark, but these had small steel platings around them for when she needed to come out and practice the shot.

Still, he was out of position now. She would have to move quickly in order to align herself up with another ricochet shot.

But he was blocking her way and kept moving. The angles kept changing, constantly changing where she needed to fire from. The shot would be useless—

"You're a witch!" the man seethed. Saya stood her ground and kept looking for another way.

 _How do I get into a position where I can ricochet bullets on him?_

"You've corrupted him and made him weak!"

She looked around for another plating. She had many of them here, but none of them would work to land a shot on him and too many would place her too close to that sword. She then saw a flash of metal behind Creed at the perfect angle.

Black metal with a large XIII on it, held up by a man who was giving her the go-ahead. The steel in his eyes was all the confirmation she needed on his resolve.

"To save him, I must kill you!"

 _Bang!_

Saya shot directly at the man and was not surprised when he parried the shot away as she had predicted earlier. The bullet lost a touch of momentum, but followed the trajectory she had planned.

 _Clang!_

Off of Hades, which would survive with no scratch, and directly into the back of the assassin's sword arm.

Or it would have.

Creed dodged the bullet last minute, giving Saya little to no time to move out of the way herself. The bullet ran through a few muscles in her right arm, just missing the bone. It was nothing time, a good helping of gauze, and disinfectant would not cure, but the injury would impede her aim and speed. Both of which she would need for her life.

"Did you think I wouldn't dodge this time, witch?" Creed drawled. He gave a frightening burst of speed which landed his sword on her foot, no matter how quickly she jumped back.

 _Better my foot than where he was aiming_ , she managed to think through the blinding pain. She would do well without a slash in the stomach, thank you. Still, with her foot pretty much sliced in two and gunning arm down on precision, she would be heavily disadvantaged in this fight. She could not move nor be as quick on the draw as she needed to.

She could no longer do this on her own and hope to win. Not as she was, anyway.

The assassin was coming around for another slice when a bullet intercepted him. While Creed stood, shocked at the turn of events, Train reentered the fray. Saya knew he had been waiting on the fringes so as not to have been hit by one of her ricocheting bullets, but now that she could not shoot or run it was his turn to take center stage, safe from any sort of friendly fire.

 _Train…_

* * *

"Train! At last!" Creed cried out. If that sick freak could be joyous, that would be the first descriptor of his face. Eyes lit up like a demented Christmas tree and a smile that would look very fitting on a hyena. "I do believe the fog in your mind should be clearing now! Now you should see that—"

A bullet grazed by Creed's cheek as Train continued his stance against the man. He had enough of this 'witch' nonsense.

And now he was free to fight as he wanted.

"I see…" Creed said. The delight he had possessed moments ago seemed dimmed. Train could not tell if this were an improvement or not.

His foot dug into the ground before he moved. It gave Train an indicator as to where he would strike next. He parried the blow that came swiftly from the right in this fashion, quickly finding himself face-to-face with an absolutely livid Creed. The strange thing was that the attack was too far back to be a proper threat to himself.

Of course. He was still after Saya.

"If I'm to free you from your shackles, I have to kill the witch!" he growled. "If I'm to kill her, I must fight you! What a despairing thought!"

Train shoved the man away and fired off three shots. His triple quick draw landed two shots on his target's person—one on the leg and another on his left arm—and the third barely grazed the man's ear. Train aimed again, but Creed was neither a rookie nor a frightened target.

He had vanished with ease.

Train looked around, knowing that he could not leave Saya's side. The instant he did, she would be dead. Certainly, she could pull a trigger, but if she did so too late she would suffer. The injuries she had already sustained would make sure she fired far too late.

For now, he was playing defense. A game he had not played in a very long while.

Creed lashed forward with Kotetsu only a moment after disappearing, an angry scream ripping from his throat. It was a move that Train parried by using quite a bit of force. While lacking in tact, the man had no lack of power. That was for certain.

As soon as Creed was off of him, Train took Hades and aimed for the man's feet. Two shots. One landed into his heel, slowing him down quite a bit. The other missed by a fraction of a second.

 _Only one bullet left…I can't believe I didn't grab my extra bullets… I'm used to having them in my coat at all times, but since confinement..._

The gunman shook that train of thought knowing that being too distracted could spell out death for himself and Saya. He had to be entirely focused on his opponent.

Creed lunged at him again, putting more effort into this swing than the last, if that were at all possible. Train kept even pressure with him, knowing the consequences that would come to pass should he fail.

A tactic presented itself swiftly in the face of this possibility. Train put forth all of his strength into not only repelling the attack, but reversing it. While the silver haired assassin was surprised—pleasantly so, if the cheeky grin could be trusted—he did not buckle under the new force.

"That's it!" Creed cackled. "More! More! Those eyes are burning to kill! Give me more!"

Train pushed all the harder, tilting Hades just so. Not backwards, but downwards. Somehow, the lunatic did not even notice. He just kept laughing as the pressure kept building and building.

"Revert back to the glory you were before that witch corrupted you! Then you can kill her for making you weak!"

That did it.

Train pushed back with a final shove, finally sending the man off-balance with darkened eyes. The split-second before he could recover, Train slammed the butt of his gun across Creed's face, sending him to the ground. Instantly, Train was on top of him, shoving Hades' barrel into the man's forehead.

Creed was pinned down. He only had one bullet left.

But one was all he needed.

It would be so easy to pull the trigger.

Creed would just keep coming after them if he did not.

It would not stop until he was dead.

They would not be safe until he was dead.

He began to squeeze—

"Train!" Upon hearing his name, the man turned behind himself to see where Saya continued to lay, physically unable to do anything save shout or maybe wave her hands. But that was enough.

He was running from Chronos. Sephiria had offered to take him back into the numbers if he wanted. If he killed Creed, what was the point in running?

"Stay out of this, you wit—"

Train clocked him again, this time using his fist rather than Hades' butt. A small mercy. It took once more before the man was out cold. Train immediately released him and picked up his injured friend gingerly.

"He won't stay down for long. We need to keep moving."

Saya nodded and did not say anything else when Train picked her up and placed her on his back, minding her injuries. She did not make a sound when he began to run, deserting the place of the fight. He could not tell if he were grateful or worried for her continued silence as they began their escape.

Creed twitched on the ground.

* * *

"One eraser goes missing and they send two numbers after him?"

"Ash…"

"We even had to do his assignment _for_ him. That's not normal. And the Elders giving this to us directly without Sephiria? That's downright—"

"Ash!"

"What?"

"He was the original candidate for number XIII."

"So? Wasn't he beat out by the current XIII?"

"No, he was too unstable for the position."

"Oh. That means he could have a skill set to rival one of the numbers. It's why they sent two."

"Exactly. Now keep an eye out. He was last seen headed this way."

"Got it, Nizer."

* * *

It had been several hours since Train had almost killed that assassin. While Saya fully agreed that the man was a creep in every sense of the word and that he was dangerous, extremely so when in an emotional state as he was, she could not stand by and watch as her dearest friend killed him.

Though would he have? Had she not intervened, would he have done as the silver-haired man had said? Reverted back into killing?

 _Why_ had he changed? She had been so happy with the said changes that she never gave much thought as to why he was doing it. Perhaps she had assumed that he realized killing was the wrong thing to do. Perhaps she had thought he was growing that good side that she always seemed to see, even if he did not see it himself. Perhaps she thought he had always disliked killing deep down.

But what if it was because of her? Because he knew killing made her upset? Even though the thought was somewhat ego-centric, it made a certain kind of sense.

Saya frowned. That would not do. He needed his _own_ reason to spare a life. If his reason was her, what would happen when she got hurt? If she—heaven forbid—got killed? Would he use that as a reason for vengeance? Would he still spare the life of a criminal even when angry?

He needed to reflect on his own and think about why he had spared all those lives with Chronos. Why he had gone through so much trouble challenging the very livelihood that he had existed within his entire life.

He had to find his own reason to let people live.

Train instantly jerked to the side, causing Saya to hold on even tighter. They were going so fast and hopping over so many trees that a single misstep could be the end for both of them.

"Train?" she called over the wind.

"I'm fine," he answered.

"If you need to stop—"

"I don't."

"Train!"

"He won't stay down for long. It's been—"

"We haven't been followed for hours," Saya said. The light from the rising sun had bothered her at first, but it had also helped her to distinguish the time. It had been at least a couple of hours since the sun had begun to peer over the horizon. "I know you have incredible stamina, but— _woah!_ "

The woman sweeper struggled to keep her hold onto Train as he lurched violently once more, this time to the left. This time, regaining his balance was not as easy as before. He staggered for about three steps before building a confident stride once more. But this was where the woman put her foot down.

"Train! Stop right now!" she yelled.

"We have to—"

"We have to get wherever we're without getting killed and we can't do that if you're tripping over your every step," Saya scolded. Her eyes drank in the ever-changing surroundings until she found something. "There, huge tree. Looks hollow so we can rest inside there for a while."

"We're going to sleep inside a tree?"

"Would _you_ look inside a tree?"

"Point taken," he admitted. Saya breathed a little easier when he veered course slightly and arrived in front of the wooden behemoth. The giant had to be at least a couple hundred of years old, branching off awkwardly halfway up. Almost like a life that had been taken far before its time had come. Saya felt a little sorry for it as they approached, but the hole it left behind was perfect for their uses now.

It took about five steps for the former Chronos Number to stop completely from the pace he had been going at all night. Five seconds more for him to drop from sheer exhaustion of it.

"Train!" Saya did not feel the sting of leaves in her arm's wound. Did not bother with the injury that had nearly sliced her foot apart that burned when she had fallen from Train's back and into the piles of dirt. Did not care that her gun dug sharply into her side or worry if the safety had clicked off.

Her friend was hurt and she had not spoken up to prevent it sooner.

But she could do something about it now.

She reached her left hand out and grabbed Train's inky black coat. He was face first into the ground, which would not be good for the process of breathing. She forced out the pain from her own injuries and began to push on him, carefully flipping him over. When he was sprawled on his back, she began to look for the best way to transport him those final five feet into the tree's hollow base.

It took a moment for Saya to realize how lucky she was. Train still had his black coat on—a trench coat that went from his neck all the way down to the middle of his calves. Add to her luck that there were leaves scattered all over the ground, giving it less friction to work against. His coat would work as an impromptu sled against the leaves, easing the work that was necessary from her.

Still, even with the help of slight physics, a few leaves, and a long coat, Train was a healthy twenty one year old male who did his fair share of working out. That combination was not easy for a nineteen year old injured female at half of her working capacity to move. She had to fist his coat into her left—and non-dominant—hand while causing movement with her uninjured leg by pushing backwards.

It was the hardest five feet she had had to move for a very long while.

When she finally was able to move her friend to safety, she stopped and took a bit of a breather. While she did that, she also took a moment to think about their current situation.

They were on the run from his old boss, his old friends, and he was trying to make a new life for himself. She knew that he wanted to turn a new leaf in his life so badly. To no longer be the Black Cat of Chronos, but be Train Heartnet.

But who would that man be? Whoever he wanted to be, surely, but that was what Saya wanted to triple check. She wanted to make sure Train was becoming the man _he_ wanted to be, not the man he thought she wanted him to be. But how to make that happen?

Train's chest rose and fell in a steady pattern, indicating that he was still regaining his strength. Saya sighed as she ripped a bit of her yukata's sleeve in order to wrap the wound on her arm. Then did the same for her foot, even though it was a practically useless gesture. The most it could do was keep it from any further infection. However, she realized that she should concentrate on the positives, something she always excelled at.

She would not be able to live with herself otherwise.

They were free from Chronos. They had the entire world to explore. And they would probably be doing that together for the next few days.

That put a smile on her face. She had always enjoyed a little adventure.

 ** _AmyNChan: Okay, so I think I mentioned that it'll take me a while to get chapters out, but I won't fail in bringing them in. XD_**

 ** _Saya: That was such a serious chapter!_**

 ** _AmyNChan: I know, but I added a fight scene! That wasn't there last time! *^_^*_**

 ** _Saya: Hey, are you gonna explain about the tree?_**

 ** _AmyNChan: Ah, okay. It's such an obscure thing, but the tree from the first version was my way of Saya kind of seeing what would have happened to life around her had she died. The tree was useful when it was needed and the hole it left suited their purposes. It was a grand thing, a beautiful thing, that was cut down far too early. It was just a bit of high-schooler-attempting-to-be-deep. XD_**

 ** _Saya: That's why she was sad when it was cut out in the rewrite. Apparently no one got it._**

 ** _AmyNChan: Yeah, it was too subtle. XD_**

 ** _Saya: In any event, please leave a review! :D_**

 ** _AmyNChan: Yup, please~! *^_^*_**


	3. Chapter 3

_**AmyNChan: Okay, one thing from the first version: Train didn't have a shirt. No, it wasn't to make Saya all giggly, I honestly didn't see him wear one with his Black Cat outfit. XD**_

 _ **Train: How rude! Of course I wore a shirt!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: But the neck dips down even lower than Rinslet's! I couldn't see it at all! XD**_

 _ **Train: Ouch! *over dramatic protection of heart* That hurts.**_

 _ **AmyNChan: XD In any event, I don't own Black Cat! *^_^***_

"Where was he found?"

"Barely conscious in the middle of the woods."

"Will he be able to answer our questions?"

"If not he will be very shortly. Who shall lead the interrogation?"

"Number X. He and Number V found him and are aware of the parameters."

"As you wish. I shall bring you a report of their findings when they have finished."

"Good. Dismissed, Number I."

* * *

Train awoke without opening his eyes. He expected the cold metal of his temporary bed. Perhaps the acrid smell of cleanliness that tried all too hard to cover up every secret and lie that Chronos had to offer. He expected nothing to change when he opened his eyes, that running away from the shady organization with Saya had merely been a fantastic dream and he would awaken to the same pitch-blackness he had been confined to.

Then he felt the patchy texture that was both beneath and inside the edges of his long coat. He smelled the earthy scent of dried out dirt. Heard the small sounds of equally small animals running about their normal lives.

By the time he opened his eyes to allow the sunlight in, he was fully aware that he was not in Chronos anymore.

Train sat up, brushing a few stray leaves off of his back and arms. His muscles screamed in protest, still recovering from the amount of sudden exertion after nine days of cold stillness. He began to stretch them in order to get ready for the next leg of the journey.

A journey with no true destination.

The prospect filled him with a certain sense of excitement. A humming energy that almost made him forget the danger they were in just by the act of running. It was an amazing feeling.

A soft snore caught his attention. He turned to see that Saya had settled herself on the ground a mere foot from his position, her yukata shredded slightly and said shreds formed into makeshift bandages. The amount of blood that had already seeped through the cloth shot pain into his chest. He should have taken the fight over before she had gotten so hurt, angled Hades so that way she would not have gotten injured had the man avoided her shot.

A slight breeze entered the tree, bringing with it a slight chill from outside. Saya's form shuddered, but would not move to conserve heat. Probably in too much pain and discomfort to do much of anything.

At least this was something Train could help with. His coat was of a material that kept him cool when open and at a reasonably warm temperature when fully closed. When he took it off and draped it over the sleeping woman, it provided enough warmth to keep her from trembling too terribly much. He took extra care with her arm and foot.

 _Those will take time and rest to heal…and a lot of clean gauze and disinfectant probably wouldn't hurt,_ he thought as he backed out of the tree to allow the girl some privacy while she slept. He then looked about the area, scanning for signs of previous activity. For all he knew, Creed could have come by this way while the two of them slept.

But everything appeared normal for an early afternoon in the woods. The sun was climbing higher in the sky, he heard the trickling of a stream close by, and no nearby animal seemed afraid to die. It was peaceful and quiet. And if Creed had not found them in the time it took him to recover from his fatigue, he had either given up—unlikely—or had been caught by some third-party—far more likely.

But would that third party come after him as well? Probably not until they realized what—or whom—Creed had been chasing. Especially if it were Chronos. So while they may have bought themselves a little bit of time, they only had until Creed revealed his reason to be so far out of the way, which depended on the fickle man's fancy at the time of capture.

They needed to move again fairly soon.

Train took a glance back to the tree where Saya slept. Rest was what she needed right now for her injuries and Train refused to move on without her. Not until he knew she could be safe. And then he would go back to take care of Creed if necessary.

He turned his head to the sound of the brook he had heard before. He would not chance going into town again, but rivers tended to carry life with them. He could at least get some brunch and some water to drink. Perhaps—if he was lucky enough—he could find a container to bring some back to their impromptu "camp".

With that plan in mind, Train headed off.

* * *

Saya startled herself awake, a sheen of sweat on her brow. Her arm stung and her foot felt like hell incarnate, but these were two of the three factors that caused her to look about herself in panic, checking to make sure she was truly alone.

Nightmares. Again.

She closed her eyes once more with a sigh. Nightmares were almost always the indicator that she had stayed in one place for too long. They usually cropped up after three months or so. Perhaps it was her mind attempting to deal with the past she had so firmly shut behind her. Perhaps it was memories long forgotten that were trying to bring her down.

She brought her left arm up in order to wipe the sweat away and felt a new fabric rustle over her in the process. When she opened her eyes a second time, the first thing on her agenda was to inspect the cloth. It was black, so long it covered her entire five foot three frame, and looked like it had several leaves attached to it. Especially in the sleeves. It was Train's coat.

But then, where was Train?

Saya looked around. Memories from that morning flooded into her mind, reaffirming her new reality. They had left town a bit sooner than planned and now they did not seem to have a plan. Saya's train fare was in her pocket but they would not reach another station for quite a while on foot and there was no way they would return to the town that was attempting to kill them off. They had to find some other method of movement, especially if they wanted to avoid another...episode like...this...

What was that smell?

Saya sniffed the air once more, curious. There was no way she could be smelling cooked tuna in the middle of the forest with how little preparation she and Train had before leaving. There was absolutely no way. She turned her attention to her arm quickly, hoping that it would feel well enough to help her move towards the source of that wonderful smell. While wrapped firmly and healing, there was no way it would support her weight if she tried to move.

She decided to put the jacket on properly before beginning to awkwardly crab-scoot instead, the same way she had that morning.

"Keep moving like that and all the tuna will be gone before you even get here," Train joked. Saya turned to find him wearing the wide necked white shirt that he normally wore under his coat, his tattoo displayed proudly for the whole world to see. His pants were sullied, obviously from sleeping in the dirt, and his shoes were also far less than clean. Still, that lighthearted smile he was getting used to wearing was effectively skirting the issue at hand.

Somehow, that suited her just fine.

"Keep talking, at least you have all your limbs working right," she chided with a smile. She managed to move a little more. "Not that I'm asking for help, mind you."

She was very well aware of Train's minute twitching when she had subtly told him to let her do this on her own. He was probably feeling awful about what happened to her. _She_ felt awful about what happened to her. But at least she was alive. She would have returned to her room if she and Train had not spent so long talking, right in the path of that psycho. She supposed she could have held him off or maybe even captured him had she been in a position that was more to her advantage, but if Train had not helped after she was down that man would have surely killed her.

Yes, at least she was alive. She could be grateful for that.

"It won't be too long before yours do, too," Train said. Saya chuckled at the encouragement as she continued to move. Slowly but surely. This was progress she was pleased with.

"Yeah, but not for a few months at least," Saya said. "Gunshots tend to do that to you and I don't even want to _think_ about the sword."

Train tilted his head, his expression confused. Eyebrows furrowed, tilted head, thoughtful expression. The word 'adorable' popped into Saya's mind more quickly than anything else and she could not help the chuckle that escaped her despite how draining it was to just move. She would still do it on her own, though.

"What about that wound I got when you found me? That was lethal and it was manageable within three days," Train recalled.

"Uh-huh," she said as she made the last foot to the fire. Train had already prepared her a helping of tuna on a stick and had some water at the ready for her. She took them with a smile. "Thanks. But on your wounds, they started healing almost _too_ quickly. Kind of unnatural. Did Chronos do anything to make sure you didn't die or something?"

Saya took a bite of the delectable fishy goodness as she let Train wonder about that. It was a bit overcooked, but she was not going to complain. It was the best thing she had tasted for quite a while. Maybe because she was grateful again to be alive. That tended to make a meal that much better.

Still, there was only so much of the sounds of nature she could take and still keep the banter rolling. She opened her eyes to find Train still thinking hard on the matter. As funny as it was to see his ears smoke on it, she decided it would be better to just let the serious subjects go and then gave him a direct smile.

"You know, if they did or didn't it doesn't matter too much. We're both alive and I know I'm ready to have another go at this world," she said, meaning every single word. It would not have mattered to her in the least if Chronos did something crazy to make sure their numbers lived, just so long as she had her friend, her first true friend, by her side.

 _But if that sicko Creed comes after us again we'll probably need to be ready..._ she thought despite herself. She tried to shake off the seriousness. She was enjoying a perfectly pleasant afternoon with her best friend, a tuna fish lunch, and the mild twinging of her injuries every now and again. As long as she let her arm and leg rest, they would be fine.

Train nodded at her statement before walking over to her side. He reached into his jacket pocket without taking it off of her and withdrew a bundle of bills. While Saya sat flabbergasted, he smirked. When had he…?

"I don't know about you, but I'm not going to go around and broadcast that the Black Cat got loose. Sephiria helped me leave without letting the higher-ups know about it and I'd like to keep the element of surprise for her sake," he said. "So how about we find the next town and see a doctor, get something to eat, get something new to wear, and get some new wheels?"

"New wheels?" Saya asked, genuinely surprised. "I thought we'd catch a train."

"Come on, Saya, where's your spirit of adventure?" he asked in return. From the mischievous look in his eye and the full blown grin he was giving her, she knew whatever he had in mind had to be good. She smiled.

"What did you have in mind?"

* * *

"How could he have escaped?!"

"Our sources indicate he had help from an insider."

"Find them! No one betrays Chronos! And what of the eraser Diskenth!?"

"He's fighting off our guards. He's slaughtering our workers and erasers ten at a time."

"Restrain him! Send in number X if you have to!"

"And what of number V? The two—"

"I don't care that number V is already on a mission or that they work cooperatively! I want number X to bring Creed in while you investigate this matter of betrayal, number II!"

"Understood."

"And number I, she is..."

"Still on that mission you assigned three days ago."

"When Heartnet escaped… how did that elude our notice for three days?!"

"I don't know, sir."

"Well, find out! And when you find the traitor who helped him escape, do what must be done!"

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed!"

* * *

The air whipped around them like freedom in their ears. Train revved on the handlebars on this new motorcycle despite the fact that they were already going at least eighty miles an hour. Going so fast was a great distraction about where they had come from...

...and what he was planning to do next.

It was too dangerous to tote Saya around while he kept Creed at bay, not that he would ever tell her such. He knew she was an adept and formidable sweeper when she was one hundred percent, but the temporary physician had made certain they knew she would not be so for at least another few months. She had been instructed not to walk or even carry her gun, which weighed a little over two pounds without ammunition, until her arm had healed properly. Even if she could hold a gun in a few months, Train knew there was no way she would be able to make quick getaways like before. Not with that foot injury.

She needed to find someplace to stay put for a while so she could heal. He, on the other hand, needed to dish out some payback to the man who had very nearly cost him everything. He knew the man would continue to come after them as soon as he was able, as soon as he was free to do so. These three days' worth of time had been borrowed and Train intended to make them count by making sure Saya stayed safe.

He turned onto the exit and into town, the second stop since they had bought the bike. He slowed down right in front of the gas station, though he need not have bothered with that.

The gas was already gone.

"Wow, this bike took us pretty far," Saya mentioned. She took her crutch from where it had been secured on the back and pushed it under her left arm. Train hated that he had not intervened in that fight any sooner and that it took her being slashed through the foot to bring him directly back in it. He could not even look at her right arm in the sling without feeling shame. It had been him holding onto Hades which had made the angle for her to use. That angle had torn right in her gunning arm.

He might as well have fired the bullet himself.

"It looks like we're not going anywhere for a while," Saya said, pulling him from his thoughts. "So we'll just have to find one around here."

"Around here?" Train asked. Aside from the gas station, there were perhaps twenty or forty other buildings in the vicinity, a majority of them residential. There were two pubs and a police station as well as a school and a few of businesses. It seemed like a town that was typically overlooked. That was probably what made it perfect.

"Yup," Saya answered. She began walking slowly, aided by her crutch under her left arm and her right in an insisted-upon sling. She chuckled as she pushed forward. "You know, by the time I get the okay to walk, my left leg is going to be seriously toned. I'll have to do so much running in order to even it up again."

"You know you could have gotten a wheelchair," Train pointed out as he followed. "Or I could have carried you. It wouldn't have been any trouble."

"Thanks, but nah," Saya said, grinning. "Even if I'm only at half-strength and can't fire a gun, I like being able to stand up on my own two feet. Or foot, I guess, in this case."

Train frowned at the girl as she continued to chatter with a smile. He wanted to help her but he also wanted to keep his distance. He wanted to her to rely on him a little bit while also admiring how independent she could be. He wanted to tell her to knock off the tough girl act and yet he could not bring himself to be too angry at her for simply being her infuriating and amazing self. He wanted a lot when it came to her and it was downright confusing.

Saya led the way into a small business that was obviously something larger than what the sign conveyed. Train's observation proved to be accurate when two large bodyguards intercepted them at the entrance.

"Sweeper license, please," the first requested, holding out his beefy hand.

"Of course," Saya said. Her smile did not wane as she reached into her yukata and produced a small rectangular card with her face on it. The man looked it over for a moment before waving them through.

"Security doesn't seem too tight around here," Train noted as soon as the men were out of hearing range. Saya laughed at that.

"They're meant to keep the civilians out by dressing as bouncers. Most would just walk away after seeing them. The worst they can do is ask a few questions," Saya explained. "Now, if a criminal were to try and come in and try something, that'd be the same as walking into a prison where they're allowed to fight to keep you. Probably not the smartest thing to do."

Train chuckled at his friend's sense of humor. The bar was filled with highly armed persons and a back wall filled to the brim with wanted posters. Many of them appeared to be high value and the entire place was abuzz with conversation. Saya led the way to the bar and took a seat, Train following. She tapped the bar three times and a waiter quickly appeared.

"Which one of you will be taking the sweeper test?" he asked, looking the duo over. Train nodded his head.

"That'd be me."

"Please come this way to have your fingerprints taken. Did you want to take the test today or set it up for a later date?"

"I'll just start it now. No point in waiting."

"Do you want me to ask your comrade to go home while you take it? It's been known to take a few hours at least."

"I'm sure she'll be okay."

"All right. Now press your thumb here...good. Now you need to press it, don't roll it..."

* * *

"Only the strong survive in this pitiful world. That's the only true rule I will acknowledge."

"Y-you—"

"Don't even try to talk. You are weak. Your hatred for this world is weak. Those fools who command your every move are weak!"

A clang. A grunt.

"You truly are weak! This world is weak! Weak, weak, weak!"

A scream. A thud.

"All who are weak shall die by my blade! I shall take this ugly world and wipe it out! You are all WEAK!"

* * *

Saya tapped her glass of milk. Train had been gone for about fifteen minutes already and she was beginning to get bored. A few of the sweepers had already left. Of those, two had tried to pick a fight with one another. It only took one threat of revoking both their licenses in order to get them to leave.

"Mou...this is going to take a while..." Saya said. Patience had not been one of her strong suits unless it was in catching a target. She allowed her eyes to wander to the ever-changing board of bounties. Three were being ripped off by hopefuls who hoped to make a buck. Two were being removed by the barkeep—those had already been caught by some other lucky sweeper. Five were being put up on the board as new target possibilities.

She glanced at the reward range of the posters. Every criminal on the board was a high level C or higher and none of them were in town. She sighed. Maybe they just needed a small fry in order to get them some gas.

 _I won't catch any small time just sitting around in here_... Saya thought. She turned to the first bartender, who had come out about a minute ago.

"Can you tell him to meet me at the pub down the street?" Saya asked. "I'm going to try and get there before he does."

"Sure thing," the bartender said. Saya nodded in appreciation and headed down the road. Hopefully she could do a bit of damage there.

* * *

Train left through the back door of the establishment. He would get back in after his target had been captured without being killed or escaping town as a sweeper just one step shy of certification. To give him a sporting chance, he had let the man claim a fifteen minute head start.

The sun blinked into his eyes and he let them take a moment to get acclimated once more to the light. He looked around and found that this man was showing an adept level of escape. Whether or not this was his true level was left to be seen.

 _He's meant to duplicate a scenario of an escaping criminal and I have three days to catch him..._ Train recalled. It was a simple game of cat and mouse. Predator and prey. The catch was that the predator was not allowed to kill the prey.

"Works fine for me," Train grinned. He made the easy jump to the top of the fourteen foot tall building and began his tracking from the sky. All of that practice in not killing the target with Chronos was about to turn up useful.

He kept his eyes peeled as the test commenced. This was going to be fun.

* * *

Saya continued to keep her eyes peeled at the bar. It had been a grand total of thirty minutes since she had left the sweeper café. The hobble had taken her about fifteen minutes despite the short distance, but she did not want to have to depend on anything to keep her freedom. As soon as she was able, she was even going to leave this crutch behind.

Another man stood up, slapped some fare on the table, and walked out of the door. Saya watched him go with a good-natured smile on her face. Just because she was in a bad position did not mean she had to frown at every passerby.

She continued to people watch in the small joint. There was a family out to an early dinner, a group of students huddled around books, and a few lone diners in there much like herself. The amount of diverse people—even in as small a place as this—made her smile. She hoped all of them were good people even if that meant one less meal ticket for her.

One of the lone diners in the back stood with his hands in his pocket. Without looking at anyone, he began to make his way towards the door of the restaurant. One of the waitresses caught up to him quickly.

"Um, sir? Your tab ran increasingly high during your stay. Would you like to—"

The man did not allow the young woman to finish as he shoved her aside and made a break for the door. Saya sighed from her seat next to the exit as she jutted her crutch out and directly in his path. The dine-and-dasher was going too quickly to stop and ran face-first into the medical device. He landed on the ground and did not appear as though he was going to be standing any time soon. The waitress blinked.

"You caught him," she said, standing from where the rude man had pushed her over. Saya smiled.

"Yeah, but I might need some help moving him. Can you help me get him to the police station?"

Perhaps the crutch could be helpful after all.

 _ **AmyNChan: Another thing I noticed, I had Saya hang onto Train waaay too much, but she's just as independent as Train. She's gonna want to do things on her own. XD**_

 _ **Saya: *shrugs* Guilty as charged. XD**_

 _ **AmyNChan: In any event, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and please leave a review~! *^_^***_


	4. Chapter 4

_**AmyNChan: Okay, two things I wanted to mention—**_

 _ **Saya: The first is that she actually did try the motions she's making me go through. Amy was able to use a crutch with one hand and her arm in a little sling for about ten minutes. She even added one of those medical boots to her left foot to simulate the weight of the bandages that would be on my foot!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: And—let's face it—since I'm not active, I gathered that Saya would be able to go a lot longer than me. Maybe an hour or so at a time with a ten minute break. XD Second thing—Hades.**_

 _ **Train: Each Chronos weapon is made for that specific number to use. Just like how X's (Ash's) weapon was not shifted to the next assassin to hold the number. They made a whole new weapon—a cloak—for the new number X. The old weapon wouldn't be an extension of Chronos anymore, just a useless old…thing.**_

 _ **Sephiria: This is why it came to be in Heartnet's possession. It would either be a trophy of a victory not yet earned or well-used in his hands. Chronos may reclaim it upon Heartnet's death.**_

 _ **AmyNChan: Yup! And so, without further ado, allow this story to continue! I don't own Black Cat~! *^_^***_

Train kept to the rooftops for about ten minutes, encircling the town once to make a mental map. It was not a very large space by any means of the word, yet there were enough twists and turns to make it seem like a complex maze if one chose to simply run about on the ground. That could be why this was a site where they chose to test incoming sweepers despite it being in the middle of nowhere. One could possibly lose a day in how many ways there were to get lost down there.

The twenty one year old man looked around himself, searching the rooftops themselves. The man could have been constantly moving, but it looked like he was supposed to be mimicking the thought processes of an escaped con. The chances of a professional gathering attention to themselves by continuing to run in a crowd were slim to none. The best way to elude the cops was either to blend in with the masses or to find a place where no one would look.

And really, who would expect the man to be practically sunbathing on the roof?

"Hey, buddy," Train called, walking to the edge of his building. His target was a few rooftops away, but that was fine by him. He might as well have a bit of fun. "I think you've been at this too long!"

"You think so?" the man asked, a good natured smile on his face as sat up. He rubbed the back of his neck as one often does after a very refreshing nap. "It's my job to weed out the weaker of those who want to be sweepers, not the less intelligent. That's the point of the written exam."

"That's supposed to see how smart you are?" Train asked. He wondered back to the questions, but could not find anything challenging about them. "'Find the best way to survive an earthquake' and 'name five pressure points on the body you can press to incapacitate an opponent' don't seem too hard…"

The proctor laughed at that. "So you're a wise guy, huh? That's fine with me."

When he stood, the proctor was a solid three inches taller than Train himself at six foot even. There was a bandana over his head and a long wooden instrument slung over his back. There was a scar across his right eye and an easygoing smile on his face. "Rules are simple, get me to the café against my will to complete the exam. Fully conscious or incapacitated, it doesn't matter. Oh, and if you kill me dead the test is over."

"That's been an actual threat for you?" Train asked, hands in his pockets. The man's smile warped itself into a self-satisfied smirk as he drew his staff.

"'Course it has! Wouldn't be any fun otherwise!" he said. "Oh, and one more thing. Hold back and I _will_ kill you."

"Fine by me."

Train kept his eye on his opponent throughout the banter. Any normal man with normal reflexes would have been caught off-guard with how quickly he moved and most certainly would have been whacked pretty smartly in the chest by his surprising blow. Train, however, knew just when to duck and grinned as he saw the man's surprise loom over him.

"Hi," Train grinned. He then finished the greeting with a blow to the face. The brown-haired man had certainly punched harder before, but this was enough to knock the proctor off-balance.

"So fast…" the proctor managed to say.

"Yup!"

Train rounded on the man and was surprised by how quick the counter was. However, what the man possessed in speed, he lacked for in instant strength. Train had both at his disposal and was able to push the man backwards once more, sending him straight onto his back and into a position that was not readily defensible or easy to maneuver out of. He was not about to give the man another chance to make a getaway, so his hand flashed to his holster and he pulled out his gun.

"So," Train said, holding the barrel directly in front of the proctor's forehead. "I guess this means I win. Just curious, but what level of criminal were you impersonating? It's clear you were holding back a little bit. You were going to get steadily more difficult to capture, weren't you?"

"High enough to matter, low enough to make sure you learn on the job," the proctor said, lazily putting his hands above his head. "As for getting harder, nah. I just stay on the same level to see what kind of skills the rookies have. Anyways, I'll get you back into the sweeper café and you'll get your license as soon as we're done explaining how you caught me. Got it?"

"Sure," Train said. He pulled the man up and kept a hand on the scruff of his shirt. The proctor caught on quickly and smirked.

"You knew I was going to run first chance I got."

"Wasn't hard. Half of this is capture, after all. The other half is actually _getting_ you where I need you to be."

"Eh, you won't make a bad sweeper."

"Thanks."

* * *

"Welcome back, Sephiria."

"Thank you, Belze. What is the status of headquarters?"

"The elders have discovered Heartnet's escape while Diskenth is wreaking havoc on our guards. Number X has been dispatched to deal with the situation before he can get too far."

"I see."

"The elders demanded it number involvement and chose him specifically as he was part of the team that brought Diskenth in initially."

"Understood. And who is heading the investigation of Heartnet's escape?"

"I am."

"What have you found?"

"Heartnet was deliberately released eight hours earlier than expected. The only witnesses to Heartnet's release were of the first sent to prevent Diskenth's escape. They have, unfortunately, all perished and the paperwork has been disposed of as per Chronos regulations."

A pause. A room devoid of life save two weary souls.

"Traitors to Chronos are executed."

"I'm aware."

"If it is discovered that—"

"Sephiria."

A pause. A breath.

"I'm aware. I was aware then and I'm aware of it now."

A smile.

"You're a good man, Belze."

* * *

"You could have asked for my help!" Train said again from the front of the bike. Saya frowned.

"I was already there, I did it on my own, no one got hurt, and we have gas! I don't see what the problem is!" she retorted. The bike revved faster, causing Saya to tighten her grip. "Train!"

The bike revved again, but he did not otherwise respond. Saya huffed in irritation. Honestly, she thought Train would be pleased with the bounty she had caught while he had been off taking his test and getting certified. She thought he _wanted_ to get a move-on. But no, the first thing he had done was stand there, angry, while she held a wad of bills out for him to take, grinning happily until she realized his mood.

Honestly. What was his problem? She was hurt, not an invalid!

Saya kept an eye on the upcoming towns. They were not anywhere she was terribly familiar with, but…

There!

An exit was coming up in twenty three miles that she had heard of in passing. She did not know the layout of the town yet, but one of her friends had set up shop there about five months ago. Maybe...

Maybe she was just being ridiculous. Maybe this was a one-time thing and he would be fine when she healed and could take care of herself.

And if he was not? If he continued to put her first in their actions, almost to the point of turning down the opportunity to move forward in their adventure for freedom, would he be able to continue with the life he so desperately wanted to live?

Thoughts of her doubts from almost five days ago returned to plague her. What was Train doing? Was he running from his old life because he felt he had to or because he truly wanted to? And now that he felt he had to physically care for her, could he know what he wanted for himself? If he spent all of his time looking out for her and getting angry because she wanted to help just as much as he could, when would he be able to know for certain what he wanted for his own life?

Saya had only known for herself after about a week out on the road all alone. It had been hard, a fourteen year old sweeper, but she had always known that this sort of life was for her. Train had not had that kind of time alone to test himself in that regard.

 _If I let him go off by himself now, there's a chance I'll never see him again…_ Saya thought. The wind whistled against her ears harshly and the bike sped up. They were now practically flying down the road and Saya reveled in the feeling of almost absolute freedom with her very best friend.

She smiled, a bittersweet weight on her heart. Her choice had been made.

"Hey, Train! There's a friend I want to visit…"

* * *

Annette Pias looked around her tiny shop and let out a deep breath. Smoke ringlets filled the empty air. She was catching a break before the front of her store had to open at one. The place was not terribly large, but food was not exactly what she sold here as a priority and thus she saw no need to invite many eating clients with large, ample room or well-lit tables or even an extravagant menu. Simple comfort food helped to pay the bills, but it was the information that kept her around.

 _Been a while since I had any sweeper business, though…_ she thought as she idly watched the smoke rise higher and higher. It, of course, dissipated into the air long before it could reach the wooden drafts at the top of her establishment. She sighed before taking another drag.

The ringing bell pulled her from her contemplation nearly half an hour shy of opening time.

"Hey, we're not open yet," she called.

"Aw, Annette, you're so mean sometimes," a slightly familiar voice said from behind the door. As soon as the young woman appeared in her line of vision, the shop keep frowned.

"Jeez, Saya, what happened to you?" she asked, gesturing to a bar stool. As expected, Saya Minatsuki could only attempt laughing the worry away.

"Got tangled up in a fight," the young sweeper answered as she took her seat and set her crutch aside. Annette shook her head as she pulled out two glasses.

"One of these days you're gonna get yourself killed," the shop owner sighed as she poured a glass of milk for her regular. She did not wait for the girl's indignant response as she turned to the accompaniment. "And you? What'll you have?"

"Milk," he answered. Annette poured the remainder of the canister into his glass without skipping a beat. It was then that she caught it. The barely exposed tattoo that peeked out behind his blue jacket with odd-shaped donut-like buttons and his white shirt. XIII.

"So, what brings you into town," she asked, deciding to trust Saya's instinct. Although young and sometimes naïve, the sweeper girl always seemed to know who was or was not trustworthy and when they were so.

"I felt like stopping by and saying 'hello'," the young woman said. "But before that, can I use the facilities? Last I checked you had free showers for sweepers...?"

"Not free," Annette said, shooting the idea down almost as instantly as it had arisen. It was a practiced line reserved for those who knew of the service. "Standard fare for five minutes of water plus shampoo and soap. Disabled showers are in the back with a plastic bag for you to cover up your bandages with."

"Thanks, Annette! Guess I should be quick then, huh? Train, there's a shower for the guys the other way. You stink," Saya pointed out with that carefree grin of hers. Not that it was any of Annette's business, but the smile seemed…off…somehow. Saya passed the fare over and headed for the back of the restaurant behind the counter. It would be about half a minute before they both heard the door click firmly shut.

"Showers in a café?" the man—the Black Cat—asked. He took a drink of his milk, making no indication of moving despite Saya had paid for the both of them to get clean. And even though she had pointed out the boy's stink—it was moderately tolerable, but if he did not bathe soon the criminals would detect him by scent alone—he stayed behind to question her.

"Sweepers only. Segregated by gender, so no funny business either."

Whatever Annette had expected after that completely serious and factual comment, it was not what she got. The Black Cat—one of the legendary Chronos Numbers who were elite assassins that could not be felled by anything short of a natural death—spluttered into his milk. He coughed and choked, thumping himself on the chest in order to breathe once more.

Annette did not bat an eye at the ridiculous behavior. What caught her amusement, however, was the shade the man's ears turned. Bright pink.

"I-I wasn't thinking about that," the man said, in a hurried tone. He was definitely avoiding eye contact.

"Sure you weren't."

"I wasn't," he insisted.

"Uh-huh."

He let out a sound similar to a strangled cat and still refused eye contact. When he cleared his throat, she knew he was finally going to get down to business as to why he had stayed behind.

"Saya's been badly injured and she refuses to rest so those injuries of hers can heal right," he said. Annette chose to remain quiet and take another puff of smoke. "As her friend, would you know of anyplace where she can lay low for awhile? Just while she heals?"

The boy was lying through his teeth. Or, at the very least, telling her only the bits of the truth that he felt were relevant for her to hear. What surprised her was the fact that she could read these things without having to study too deeply.

He was an open book. The question was why.

"I'm pretty sure the infamous Black Cat could keep her out of trouble for a few months," she said. It was casual, but they both understood what it meant. What, exactly, was his angle?

"It's hard for a dead man to protect anyone, much less someone as free-spirited and fiery as Saya. Even harder for a man on the run to do it."

"I see." Annette observed the man with sharp eyes. He was serious about finding Saya a place to stay and his last statement had been a shred of truth. She could see it in the way he sat, sipping at his milk. "I could take her in, but this café doesn't exactly stay in one spot, you know."

"How often do you move?"

"As often as it takes, but less than you I'd imagine."

Annette watched as he processed the information. She had no intention of telling him when she was going to go next or to where and he knew it. Her true business was that of information, and no information came cheaply. Especially not that which pertained to the safety of her person, her clients, and her friends. She exhaled an amount of smoke that began to lazily drift towards the ceiling.

Again, the smoke vanished before it could make it to the rafters. Annette frowned. How long did it take for a man to decide what was best for a friend? For that matter, were the two even friends? She looked at him again. He sat there, puzzling over his milk.

"What is Saya to you?" she asked. He surprised her by giving out a light chuckle as he thought about it.

"She's a pain in the butt, too loud, sleeps like the dead, and she's my best friend," he said. Annette could tell he was being completely level with her right now. He swirled the milk in his cup and watched it as it moved. "Honestly, I'd do anything to make sure she's safe. If you guys move when I'm gone, I'll find you again."

"You know there's a chance that she'll leave my shop when she recovers."

"I know. But now's not the time to be selfish."

Annette hummed as she took in the male before her. She would not have known he was an assassin by his attitude and disposition. There was something that he was not telling her, but she knew it had nothing to do with Saya. Right now, the topic was her safety and her ability to recover, neither of which Annette could refute nor refuse. She sighed.

"Is there anything else?"

"No."

"Good, then go take a shower. Behind the counter, down the hall, and door on the right. You go in the door on the left and I'm pretty sure Saya would kill you before I got the chance."

The kid's ears turned red again as he set down his milk and proceeded behind the bar.

* * *

"That was great!" Saya cheered as she steadily made her way to the front of the store. Her hair was slightly damp from the water and she had dressed herself in the same yukata she had entered in, but she had most definitely washed that, too! All it took was some soap and some determination. She had set it underneath the hand-dryer to get dry and now it was toasty warm.

Saya loved it.

"Annette, I've told you you're a lifesaver, right?" she chirped as she retook her seat in front of the bar. The older woman could only nod sagely.

"I held the Black Cat back with a little _chat_ , so he'll be taking a few more minutes," Annette said. With the way 'chat' had been emphasized, Saya wondered what on earth they could have been talking about. Hopefully they did not try to leave her out of any leads!

Wait… was she not supposed to be leaving Train for his own good? Her smile faltered but did not crumble as she sat down and placed her crutch aside.

"So while he's busy, you should start talking."

"Talking?" Saya asked as she took a sip of her milk. She knew Annette would riddle her out, but she never thought it would be so soon. However, this was Annette and the information broker could not be left out of the loop for very long. It was her job.

"You and I both know we don't have enough time for this," Annette said. Saya sighed. The woman was right, but she wanted to pretend everything was fine for just a bit longer. That she would be able to go off on adventures with Train and run as far and as fast as she wanted to. That they would clean up the streets and have enough cash for silly arcade games and prizes and milk.

That was her dream and she knew she could not have it as it were. She needed to let it go.

"You couldn't let me pretend?" Saya chuckled sadly. She did not need to look to know Annette had shaken her head. "Mou…so mean…"

"You know that won't work."

"It was worth a shot."

"You've had your bad shot. Now tell me why you came here. It wasn't for food and a shower."

"But you have no clue how much I needed that…" Saya's eyes grew to a round and adorable shape. She knew it would have no effect, but the pose was fun to do. Annette did not budge and Saya sighed. Time to be serious. "Annette, do you think I could work for you for a few months?"

"With those injuries?"

Saya winced. She hated her injuries and the way they slowed her down, but they also gave her the perfect reason to make herself let Train go.

A blessing and such a terrible curse.

"I can still work. Take orders behind the bar, clean up tables, even take inventory. You don't like dealing with the teenagers that come into the café anyways unless they're sweepers and I could do that, too," Saya said, pointing out the one thing that got under Annette's skin. Well, aside from incompetent sweepers, but rowdy kids were pretty high up on the list, Saya knew.

"Next time I move I swear I'll make it a bar…" the woman growled underneath her breath. Saya chuckled.

"Until then, just let me work here. You won't even have to pay me anything except a place to stay!" Saya felt determination course through her veins. She would work for Annette and make Train keep going. She could not fail him, not by holding him back and dragging him down.

"When a good deal like a free worker comes up, I have to wonder what the angle is," Annette stated. Saya faltered for naught but a moment.

"Train… he…"

"Did he do something to you?"

Saya blinked, sitting up straight. The instant the question had completely registered, she was denying it with wild motions of her hands. "What? No! Train would never do anything to hurt me!"

"So what's the issue, then?" Saya stopped in her motions. She drew her hands back and looked at her milk, thinking on what to tell Annette and what should remain private. Most of it was pure and somewhat egocentric speculation, after all. However…

"I want to give him the last bit of what he's been fighting for," she finally said, smiling even though her heart twinged at the thought of being alone again. Even though she would be with Annette—should she accept her offer—she would be without Train. That made her feel lonely, like the little girl who was moved from relative to relative once again, always unwanted.

"What's that?" Annette asked.

"He's fighting to be free," Saya answered without a beat. Her resolve became stronger as she finally said it aloud. He was fighting to become a free man, and she would gladly walk into the mental shackles of her past to ensure that he achieved his goal. That he would know what his true goal was and reach it. "He can't afford to slow down and he's doing that to make sure I'm okay. He needs to be able to run as quickly as he can and have the energy he needs to get his freedom for himself."

Saya closed her eyes. Yes, this was the right move. The Black Cat was now a dying legend and Train Heartnet was almost a free man. She only need remove the shackles that she might have unintentionally placed on him herself in order for him to gain that which he desperately wanted. And she would do it in a heartbeat.

"Is this what you want, Saya?"

Annette's question should not have caught her off-guard. While Saya was openly empathetic, Annette was like the firm mother she never had. Firm almost to the point of being cross or cranky, but there when the important questions needed answering. Or asking. For this reason, Saya knew she could not lie to the woman.

"No," she said, a smile on her face even though her answer was slowly breaking her heart. "It isn't. But now isn't the time to be selfish."

Annette could only breathe deeply of her cigarette and let smoke fly into the air. Saya watched as it rose softly and quickly dispersed among the rest of the air molecules. The older woman then heaved a sigh.

"All right. Come by later in the afternoon and I'll have everything set up."

"Thank you, Annette."

 _ **AmyNChan: Okay, so the addition of the showers! I figured that since Annette's business is actually geared towards sweepers, she'd have more services for them aside from just the usual intel. Something that gives her a leg-up on her competitors. And really, which stinky sweeper running around on the streets wouldn't like a good shower?**_

 _ **Annette: I gotta make enough money to kick out the patrons who aren't doing any good.**_

 _ **AmyNChan: ehe… ^^; We love you, Annette. *^_^***_

 _ **Annette: *opens her shop and begins renovations***_

 _ **AmyNChan: I'm…just gonna leave her to it… o.o Also! Where's the Sephelze love!? QAQ I have found zero fics about that couple and I love them to bits! QAQ**_

 _ **Annette: *puts hand over my mouth when she comes back* Yo, just leave a review at the bottom and she'll get to work on the next chapter. *leaves***_

 _ **AmyNChan: Annette!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**AmyNChan: I don't think I hid anything super interesting in these chapters the first go-around...**_

 _ **Train: You probably didn't. You were too busy trying to make this as heartbreaking as possible.**_

 _ **AmyNChan: And I failed. XD**_

 _ **Train: You said it, not me. XDDD**_

 _ **AmyNChan: You're hopeless. I don't own Black Cat~! *^_^***_

"A festival?"

Train looked from Saya to Annette and then back again. The former looked absolutely ecstatic about being able to go while the latter gave no clues as she took a drag on her cigarette. Train was about to prove the saying of killing cats with curiosity true when Annette finally spoke.

"Saya here told me you two were planning on hitting one up and never got the chance. The one here in town packs up tonight, so it looks like you got here just in time," the older woman said. The newest sweeper blinked and turned his attention to Saya. She was positively bouncing in her seat, a carefree grin on her face.

"Come on, Train!" she said. "It'll be fun!"

He thought on it. That festival had sounded like a lot of fun before they had begun their escape, a split-second decision in hopes of some fun and freedom. A fresh start to a carefree lifestyle. Yet with Saya's injuries, could she—

"Please?" she asked, interrupting his direction of thought. He looked to see her sitting down, her eyes shining and almost too wide to be considered normal. "We've been on the run since we left. What about having fun? Also—if Chronos or that guy were really serious about taking us down—they'd have caught up to us already or had a tail on us by now. I haven't seen anything from them and neither have you, unless you have and aren't telling me."

"What?" Train asked, startled at how quickly the observation turned on its head. "They haven't, but—"

"Come on, we can take a small break, can't we?" Saya asked. Train knew that look in her eye. She would push on this until she exhausted every possibility. She had done so a couple of times already on the bike. The amount of time that would take... they would probably spend three days arguing about it instead of the one day it would take to actually do it.

Besides, Train wanted his memories before their parting to be relatively pleasant. Not fighting about something that would not have mattered later anyways.

He nodded his head. They would stay for the festival. Saya cheered heartily.

"Yes! I wonder what kind of carnival foods they have or what kind of games they have. Hey, Annette, do you think there's going to be any fireworks?" the excited young woman asked, turning towards her elder. The blonde shrugged.

"Probably a few small ones. This festival isn't really big, ya'know?" she said. Saya smiled.

"We'll probably grab some of the small ones, then. Have you ever used a sparkler, Train?"

"Sparkler?" he asked. He had heard of them before, but had never personally used one. "Aren't those what kids use for light during festivals?"

"Yep! Small fireworks that kids can use," Saya grinned. "They're pretty fun, too. Usually they're at a pretty good price for about a dozen or so."

"Do you set off a dozen sparklers every time you go to a festival?" Train asked. He was slipping into normal conversation and he knew it. But he was fine with that. Saya said so earlier, they were anonymous for now and if Chronos had wanted to deal with them then they would know it. He could relax for a moment, just to have fun for now.

"Of course not!" Saya cried, slightly indignant. "Only a couple. I pass the rest around and make sure kids set them off safely."

Train could only chuckle. That was so Saya. The woman tried to frown at him, but he could see the twitch of her lips. Could tell by the quirk in her eyebrows. She was not as mad at him as she tried to show. She looked like she were already having fun despite the festival not having started yet. He turned to Annette.

"What time did you say it was going to start?" The woman glanced at the clock and took a drag on her cigarette. How heavy of a smoker was she? Train did not mind the habit, but her cigarette was already almost gone.

"Starts in a few minutes, same time I open shop."

"Oh, so you're gonna be pretty busy, huh?" Saya asked. Annette nodded.

"Yup. So unless you're ordering food or helping me out, I suggest you high-tail it. Don't want people to think this is a hang-out for kids."

"Give us some credit," Saya grinned as she stood, her crutch securely in place. "We're highly trained sweepers, not kids."

"Are you sure about that?" Train asked. He knew he was not a child—had not been for thirteen years—but with the way Saya acted at times one could never tell. He chuckled when she frowned in his direction. Now she was lightly annoyed.

"Yes, I'm sure! And you know she's talking about you, too, right? Twenty-one doesn't mean you're not a kid to some people, you know," she stated. Train followed her out when she began walking to the door, keeping an eye on her steady gait the entire way. He knew she was not a child completely. He knew she was a strong and capable woman. But it was always a good thing to see her act like a child.

It reminded him that no matter how bad the world was, there was always a way to view it positively.

But that was a luxury he would soon be giving up, he supposed. He shrugged the thought as he followed Saya and opened the door for her, letting her take the lead into an afternoon of festival fun.

"Nah."

* * *

"Woah, these onion buns are great!" Saya announced as she and Train sat just outside one of the booths. It had been an hour since their last stop and Train had suddenly decided that it was time to take a break. He had told her that he had wanted to try some of the delicious festivities and that she should partake as well. Saya could not complain, her arm had begun to ache terribly even though she would not have said anything. Just so long as she could have kept seeing Train as enthralled with the festivities as he was.

She wondered when was the last time he went to a festival just because he wanted to. He had looked pretty excited when they were planning it the last time...

"The nose knows," Train said, looking down at his own bun. "Still, I hear they have better in Rojana."

"Really? I'd love to try them someday," Saya announced as she took the last bite of her snack, taking in the scenery around the two of them. Beyond the booth of onion buns there were people. Not as many as the festival they had left behind, but enough to satisfy the young woman's need for a somewhat festive atmosphere. There were games, snacks, and rides abundant. Children were running around for their fair share of fun, friends took to milling about in their groups of peers, and somewhere in the distance Saya could distinctly hear the cheering of a crowd.

Everyone was having fun. For that, she was glad.

She scanned the crowd and booths, attempting to figure out what they should try next. They had done a lot over the course of the afternoon and dusk was just beginning to fall. Their time was coming to a close but she wanted to do one more thing before they went for the sparklers.

"Looking for another game to try?" Train asked. She smirked as she continued to peruse.

"Yeah, so?"

"Do I have to remind you what happened at the cork gun game?"

"I'm not exactly ambidextrous like some people," Saya said, remembering just how horribly she had shot at the stack of bottles. It was not her fault that her gunning arm was still injured. She frowned at the thought of Train and his ability to use both of his hands for anything.

"Or the goldfish scooping."

"Hey, I almost had that fish! It jumped at the last second!"

"What about the ring toss?"

"I apologized! All you did was laugh. I still can't believe the vendor got us some taiyaki after that..." Saya mused. She grinned when Train lost his smile and pouted rather adorably. Three months ago he would never have done that. Nor would he have laughed as he had at the stand earlier.

"He gave you taiyaki because he felt bad," he said.

"Sure, and you got the mask as a bonus prize," Saya said, reaching up and fiddling with the said visor that her friend wore on the back of his head. The anime-styled neko had a long white face and two red stripes on either side. It had a red smile and big, round eyes for Train to see out of if he wore it right. However, he seemed fine with having it perched on the side of his head. She loved the fact that he seemed to be having fun.

They sat there for a moment, her playing with the mask on his head as he finished his onion bun. The smiling cat seemed to be happy, and Train seemed to mirror that pleasure. That in itself made her glad. Her friend was happy, she was happy. Nothing to it.

"So, you ready to try another game?" Train asked, finishing up his bun. Saya pulled her hand away from Train's head, briefly wondering if he had even noticed her actions. She dismissed the thought when she realized there was a challenge to be met. She grinned.

"Always ready," she announced, gearing up to leave once more. Train walked to her left, a position he had taken after a few kids had accidentally run into her. She was grateful, but still felt she could manage on her own.

Rather than focus on that, she decided to scan for another game. Something that she could definitely win without—

There!

She veered off to the right and made a beeline for one stand in particular. It had many prizes and just as many—if not more—strings. The man in the center took cash from a little boy who had just sat down to play. Saya took the seat opposite to the young one and the elderly man turned to them.

"You want to play the lottery?" he asked.

"How's it work?" Saya asked, intrigued by all the strings. They were all the same color, width, and even appeared to be the same length. Yet they were all attached to separate toys.

"It's very simple," the man said with a smile. "After you pay, you pull on one of the many the strings and whatever falls down—given that anything does—is yours."

"I guess that's why the strings are all criss-crossed and looped around at the top?" Saya said, noting the intricate designs a few of the strings took. "Are there times where more than one toy falls? Or the strings get tangled and everything comes down at once?"

"Only if a person is very lucky in the lottery. The strings have been placed so that way they don't get caught on each other, so you don't have to worry about that happening. On the other hand, some strings have no toy at all," the man smiled. "Would you like to try?"

Saya scanned the top of the top of the stand, looking at the different toys and prizes. She grinned. "Sure."

"Really?" Train asked as Saya slapped down her cash. The man started the timer while Saya surveyed the strings. "I didn't think you gambled."

"Not normally," she said as she reached for a string. "Never really…found it all that…dangit!"

The string in question was just a bit further than what she could reach. It tickled the tips of her fingers as she pushed herself forward, struggling to simply keep her balance.

"Saya—"

"Hold on, I almost…got it!" she cried out, jubilant as she finally clasped the string between her two fingers. She felt so victorious that she almost did not notice that she had lost her precious balance. But when she did notice, she was powerless to stop her decent. She would have landed straight on the blacktop had it not been for Train.

He had stepped into her path just in time, using his arms to steer her back into her seat. They were firm and warm against the rapidly chilling evening air. Her heart thudded rapidly against how close of a call she had just encountered. She did not fancy a trip to the blacktop tonight, but she still disliked the fact that she could not have taken care of herself over something as small as a little fall like that.

Darn these injuries.

"You're going to give me a heart attack," her friend said as he moved to stand behind her. Probably to guard in case she fell the other way. A chuckle escaped her as she threw her head back to give him a smile, deciding to ignore such silly speculation.

"I'll try not to do that again, then," she shot back. From how she had looked back to see him, his face now looked upside-down and the top of her head was pressing into his chest. It was really funny to see him sigh like that. Even funnier to feel it. A light hearted laugh escaped her. Even if she was frustrated with the situation, she could not be too angry at Train for long.

But… she could still wish him the best, even if she would no longer...

"You must be quite lucky, miss," the man announced. Saya pulled herself forward and brought her head down to see what he was talking about, grateful for the distraction from the dangerous direction her thoughts had been taking. It would be no good to cry now.

Before her eyes were two plush cats, sewn together at the paws. Almost like ying and yang, but in cat form. They might have been polar opposites in terms of color, but they both were smiling with squinty eyes.

"They're so cute..." Saya said, looking them over, joyfully appraising them when something caught her eye. "The collars come off?"

"That's right, just in case you want to switch them between the cats," the manager explained. "Some people prefer the red bell with the black cat and the blue bell with the white cat, but others like to switch it up every once in a while."

"I see," Saya said, smiling. She reached out for the prize and pulled it closer, an idea already in mind. "Thank you, sir!"

"My pleasure! And be sure to tell your friends about the lottery!" the man said before turning to his other customer. The excitable young woman wasted no time in her idea.

"Saya?" Train asked. Probably wondering what on Earth she was doing. The girl grinned as she fumbled with the small clasp on the black cat's red ribbon. She managed to unhook it after a few moments of fiddling with the darn thing. Then, she stuck one end in her mouth and looped the rest of it around her neck.

Unfortunately for her, the ribbon was too short for such a tactic to work. That would not stop her from trying, though. She attempted to pull the clasp together for about only a few moments before bigger hands than hers took the ribbon from her.

"You're so stubborn," Train said as he clasped the necklace on her with ease. The wonders of two fully functional hands...

"It's not a bad thing," Saya muttered, looking at her plush toys for a moment before noticing something. "Where's the other ribbon?"

"What, you wanted to wear them both?"

"No," Saya said, turning. "I—how'd you get that on so fast?"

"I have my ways," Train said, the blue ribbon and bell hanging proudly from his neck. Saya smiled. She had thought one would look cute on Train, but she was not about to force him to wear one. Yet he had…

"So…" she said, clasping her hand to her chin in faux thought. "Ready for some sparklers?"

If Saya could have taken a picture of that moment, that perfect moment, she would have. Just her, her very best friend, the festival, and the promise of sparklers. All wrapped up in one absolutely perfect night.

If only it could have stayed that way forever.

* * *

It was nine thirty when the odd duo finally returned to her shop. Annette pulled down her paper, fully intent on telling a few more kids to go home to their mothers for curfew when she realized exactly who had come in.

"Took you long enough," she announced.

"Sorry, we decided to go through all of the sparklers," Saya returned. She began walking to the bar while Train stayed behind to shut the door. "I think Train really liked them. His face was soo—"

"Saya, I thought you said you were hungry," Train said, cutting her off. Annette rose an eyebrow, but did not otherwise comment. She had spent her spare time during the day emptying out the storage room and getting the spare cot out. The shop owner had decided she would be in there until Saya could get up off of the floor on her own.

These were going to be a fun few months.

"I am," Saya defended herself, sitting on the barstool. She set her crutch aside. "Annette makes the best rice balls I've ever tasted!"

"Really?" Train asked. Saya nodded. To anyone who did not know her well, they would see her as a smiling person, happy and excited for something as mild as rice balls.

Both people in the room, however, claimed to know her very well. Annette decided to say nothing as she brought out two plates filled with the dish. They had been made when Annette had expected them back. Around eight thirty or so.

Ah well, they could eat hour-old rice balls for making her wait so long. Still, Saya and Train seemed not to mind as they dug in. The silence was killing her, but she knew it was not her place to say anything yet. Instead, she sat back and waited for them to talk about it on their own. She ended up waiting until not a single rice ball was left on that plate.

It was then that Train finally decided to speak.

"Saya, I've been thinking over these past few days." The sentence seemed to catch Saya by surprise. Annette picked up the plate and walked away from the conversation, still keeping an ear out in the very likely case that she would be brought into it. "We're on the run from dangerous people, and it's not really you that they want. If they catch us now, we'd both be in serious trouble."

"What are you suggesting?" Saya asked. Her voice was quieter than from just a few moments before.

"It might be better if we split up."

Annette kept her eyes on the plate before her but was well aware of the terse silence that followed Train's statement. Business was still technically open, but she had scared off enough kids that day so that only those who knew what she was about would dare enter. Right then, she was glad she had. This scene was awkward enough without random passerby.

After a few moments of absolute quiet, Annette finished with the dish and turned just as Saya swallowed. Then, the former sweeper watched as the girl smiled. A lilted, worn expression that exhibited exhaustion rather than contentment.

"It looks like we were thinking the same thing…" she admitted. Train turned to look at her, but his eyes widened. Although the smile on her face was sad, she kept it up. Did she not know that everyone in the shop could see how fake such a smile was? "I already talked it over with Annette and I'll be working with her until I can move quickly on my own again."

"Saya…"

Annette watched as the boy literally had no words to say to her. Saya just kept that same smile on, a single hand in her lap and the other in a sling. She waited for a while; waited for one of them to say something to fix what was quickly breaking.

She decided to step in when Train finally looked away from Saya's face.

"I made her a spot to crash already, but if you're staying for the night you're gonna need to pay up," Annette said. "She's gonna be working off her tab over the next few months."

"No, thanks," Train said as he stood. "I've stayed too long as it is. Saya?"

"Yeah?" she asked. Annette could tell by the twitch in her fingers that she wanted to move. By the way her smile livened a little that she still had hope.

 _Idiots…_

"Try not to get shot," he finally said. Rather than get angry, Saya chuckled, her shoulders coming down a little bit. It was as if the hope had flown right out of them.

"You have no faith in me," she returned. The joking lilt was tainted by the strong undercurrent of goodbye.

 _Both of them…_

Annette could only watch as Train made a swift exit from the building. The door shut firmly behind him and it was then that the sound Annette had expected to hear came. It was soft, almost inaudible, but Annette could hear it just the same.

Out of politeness, she decided not to bring it to light.

"Come on, your bed's in the back," she announced, coming around to the front of the store to help the girl on her feet. Saya accepted her help with little fight, something Annette had not expected. "Saya?"

"I…didn't expect it to hurt so much so suddenly," she said, a heavy chuckle through her tears. The girl took a deep breath, but released it in a shudder. Annette felt bad for her, but there was a time and place for coddling. This was neither. "Did I make the right choice?"

"Everyone makes their own decisions. Right or wrong, you're the one who's gotta live with 'em at the end of the day," she said bluntly. "Now go to bed. You start on-the-job training tomorrow and you need to be at your best."

Saya could only nod as she allowed Annette to lead the way. Yet somehow, in some way, Annette had a feeling that the Black Cat was regretting this choice just as much as this young sweeper woman.

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Shiki? He's an outsider!"

"His hatred of Chronos is deep and his desire to change the world can easily be shifted to suit our purposes."

"He should be grateful you took the time to heal him, not making deals like this."

"He is cunning, determined, and powerful. I believe he will be a great asset."

"Do you really think this man will bring Tao back to its former glory? Do you think he will discover its true potential?"

"Without a doubt, Maro. Remember, should he survive the elixir we will join his new team for the destruction of Chronos. In return, I shall guide him on future steps and courses of action in regards to Tao and its many mysteries. It is not a secret that can be carelessly spread."

"I hope you're right."

"I am never wrong."

 _ **AmyNChan: Shiki and Maro! You know, I always wondered why it was that they followed Creed instead of the other way around. But then again, Creed's as charismatic as Steve Jobs...**_

 _ **Saya: Anything about the new version you wanted to share?**_

 _ **AmyNChan: Yeah. Sorry about making you go through so many hoops, Saya. Unclasping a necklace one-handed is**_ _ **not**_ _ **easy.**_

 _ **Saya: Of everything you're making me do, you apologize for that?**_

 _ **AmyNChan: ehe... ^^; anyways, Train's mask is actually from a movie my friend just made me watch. I can't remember the title, but the character's name is Gin and he has a friend named Hotaru (girl). It's a cute 45 minute movie. You guys should watch it. *^_^***_

 _ **Saya: Please read and review!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**AmyNChan: I LIIIIIIVE!**_

 _ **Saya: Wow, this one was up quickly…**_

 _ **AmyNChan: This one came a lot easier than the last one. XD**_

 _ **Saya: I'll bet. So, you wanna do the disclaimer?**_

 _ **AmyNChan: Sure~! *^_^* I don't own Black Cat! That honor is Yabuki-sensei's. *^_^***_

Days passed, as they unmistakably would. Both lives turned towards different directions, but their thoughts never strayed far from the other.

 _I wonder what he's up to…_

 _She should be able to move her fingers by now…_

The pain associated with separation eased with time, but both had their share of regrets. Words left unsaid and the lingering fear that they would remain so indefinitely. A motorcycle ripped up dirt as it continued on its ill-planned path. A new waitress teetered dangerously as her crutch hit a spilled drink.

 _Where is he…? There's no way he would have gone into hiding. He was too bloodthirsty._

 _You'd think that some people would be more careful with their sodas…_

Their lives had diverged, but by no means had that meant they would cease to continue living. No, as it happens to do so on a frequent basis, life does go on.

* * *

The bike produced a loud sound. The engine roared in Train's ears; a feeble attempt to drown out his many buzzing thoughts. Despite having left Saya behind almost a month and a half ago, thoughts of her still milled around in his mind from time to time. None of those times pleasant.

 _It's fine_ , he told himself once more. He knew—as he always did—that such reassurances were petty. Still, he continued on with them. _She knew it was the right thing to do, too._

Hollow words for a hollow heart.

Train glanced down at the gas tank of his bike. It was bordering on empty. Probably would not let him leave this town if he did nothing about it.

The town he had cruised into was not large or well-known. There were no criminals ready to be caught and the police force was very capable at their jobs. One stop to the local station had proven that what little bounties were offered came from other neighboring towns. He waved goodbye to the cashier before taking to the streets. With the bike parked somewhere out of sight and no chance of earning a buck around here for a while, there was nothing for him to do.

He decided to stroll casually down the street, just to watch the people that were around.

"Mom! I want to go to the candy store!" a little boy cried out as he and his mother passed.

"Kenta, you know we can't do that. It'll spoil your appetite."

"But mom!"

The remainder of the conversation was lost as the duo passed him by. He looked curiously into a few windows on the street. A lawyer's office, a few fast food joints, even a shop for clothes. But, more importantly, he saw something he had not taken the time to ponder in a while: his reflection.

The new jacket he had chosen was almost silly, with its very large donut shapes on the front and only coming down to his waist. His new shirt was similar to the old, simply with short sleeves. He had finally switched over to jeans but had attached a handy orange holster to his right side. It was pretty much the only practical piece of clothing he wore aside from his biker goggles and gloves.

And then there was the blue collared ribbon on his neck, proudly displaying the small bell.

 _I look ridiculous…_ he finally realized. He thought back to why on earth he had chosen such a strange outfit. If he were trying to blend in with a crowd, any combination of casual wear would have worked. Yet he had specifically chosen a jacket with such strange accessories and the brightest looking holster he could find. Why was that?

" _This old thing?" Saya had asked. "I found it in a thrift shop in a town I was passing through. It's called a 'yukata.' It's traditional garb from some far east country. I like it. I wear one every day now. So I stand out… that's my choice, isn't it?"_

A choice… he had chosen to wear this. Deliberately picked it out. Chosen it very specifically from what he recalled. Why—

"Help! That man stole my purse!" a voice cried out, jerking Train from his contemplation. A young woman appeared frantic as a shady figure rounded the corner, assumingly with her purse. Disregarding his previous task, the sweeper gave chase. His heartbeat elevated slightly and his legs pushed him to match pace with the man easily. He came to a relatively easy trot behind him.

"Hey, you know it's not very nice to take things that don't belong to you," he said, a grin on his face.

Just like when he had taken the sweeper exam. He felt light. Carefree. Like his worries no longer applied to him. It was simply his job to capture this criminal and turn him in. And yet…

"Get lost!" the man screamed, rounding another corner. Train tisked as he continued to pursue. He pushed a little harder, the wind finally whistling in his ears.

He kept the man in sight as he attempted to lose Train in an alleyway. He tried to pull down a few garbage bins and hop fences, but the sweeper who had trained for tasks far more difficult than a few obstacles in his way saw these hindrances as no threat. In fact…

…they were kind of fun.

Train watched as the man ran into a dead-end and absolutely panicked upon looking back to find him still there. This meant he knew he was had. Train grinned as he walked up to his victim. He had just cornered himself.

"You know, I'm not actually sure what the bounty for a thief is," Train admitted. He had no idea why he was saying this. There was no plan. There were no worries about this man getting away. If he tried to run, Train would either catch him again or shoot him in the leg to slow him down. With this situation, everything was all right.

"Then why chase me so far?" the man asked, the sky-blue purse hanging from his arm. "For all you know, I could be worth absolutely nothing!"

Train thought about it for a moment. He had not thought of reward, just the fact that he wanted to chase this man and catch him. He had not thought of a plan, but had gone off of instinct alone. He had not thought of anything other than the moment. A moment of fun and thrill.

It was then that he had his answer. It was simple, it was short, and it put a confident smirk on his face.

"Because I wanted to," he said. His clothing choice had been his own. He had chosen to stand out a little in his own way. His occupational choice was his own. He had chosen to chase after criminals because he enjoyed the thrill of the chase, thrived on the freedom he had from direct supervisors, and felt good knowing that he was applying an alternative solution to killing. His choice to leave Saya behind had been his own. He had chosen to keep her safe while he kept running and searching for those who would do either of them harm.

He would not live to regret any of these choices. Should he have a chance to fix what he could, he would do so in a heartbeat. For now, he was a simple sweeper who wanted nothing more to do with drowning himself in what-ifs, speculation, and self-questioning. He was letting all of that go.

He was going after the lifestyle he wanted. Untroubled, exciting, and free.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" the thief growled. Train saw him attempting to pull a gun, but he was ever-so-slightly faster. The thief could not get a shot off before a bullet pierced his armed hand. The petty criminal howled in pain and released the gun, leaving a carefree grin on Train's face.

"Just a sweeper."

Just Train Heartnet, a sweeper who had a carefree life, no one to answer to, and the entire world to explore.

And he liked it that way.

* * *

" _A motorcycle?" Saya asked as she looked at the sleek machine. The price tag was quite hefty, but it was not the price which had her so flabbergasted. Upon entering the used vehicle lot, Train had immediately noticed and walked over to the bike, looking it over and scrutinizing it to the fullest extent._

 _All with a crafty smile on his face._

" _Why not?" he asked. "Headlight works, there's a compartment for baggage and even your crutch on the side, and have you seen how fast it can go? It's perfect!"_

 _She was not opposed to the bike. In fact, she thought it was a great idea, but…_

" _It's gonna cost—"_

" _Come on, Saya," Train said, grinning at the bike before turning that relatively new expression to her. "I thought you had a sense of adventure."_

 _How could she continue playing 'devil's advocate' under that? She could see how thrilled he was to have the bike, despite it wiping out most of the money he had taken with him. The bike quickly became his very own and sole mode of transport. And she had somehow been lucky enough to be invited along for the ride._

 _A ride of freedom, fun, and adventure that she would never see herself giving up. Not willingly._

 _But then, the dream shattered._

* * *

"Thank you for coming by." Saya smiled politely as a few more customers filtered out of the small restaurant. She was still being placed on cashier duty due to her injuries, but at the very least now she was beginning to apply pressure to her foot and had started being able to grasp things from her sling. Given another month or so, she would ditch the crutch altogether, leaving her with the ever so slightly annoying boot strapped to her leg and a sling around her arm.

She had dubbed it the 'robo boot' due to its rigid and monotonous appearance. No amount of stickers could lighten it up. She had tried.

"Saya, you keep being friendly and they'll think this is an actual restaurant," Annette scolded from the back. The woman laughed. A sound that had been all too brief or even forced in the past month.

"Usually I'd be in trouble for _not_ being friendly in a job like this," she pointed out as her boss—for the moment—came to the front of the store. There was another cigarette in her mouth, a few more rings making their way to the ceiling. "Besides, it keeps this place afloat, doesn't it? I haven't seen many sweepers here since I showed up."

And it was true. They only got a handful of customers on any given day and none of them had been seeking information. It was during the quiet periods of business that Annette showed her how to take care of the tables, work the cash register, and even organize the dishes in the back. It was boring and almost tedious work, but there was no way Annette would let anyone other than herself access the information she used in her more lucrative business.

"Yeah, this isn't exactly a prime location," Annette agreed. "I should pick this place up and pack it out soon. Make good on those plans for that bar…"

"Oh? How soon do you think we'll leave?"

"A few weeks, give or take a couple days," Annette said. She blew out some more smoke rings. "Saya, have you given any thought about what you're going to do once you leave my store? I can't keep you on forever."

"I think I'll just go back into sweeping," she returned, idly wiping off the counter with her free hand. "It's not a big deal. Sweepers get shot at all the time."

"It's not the shot wound I'm worried about. I'm more concerned with that stab you took to the foot."

"Huh?" Saya asked, looking down at the accursed crutch and accompanying robo boot. "But it's healing really well. A lot faster than the doctor said it would be going…"

"You should know that limbs are almost never completely one hundred percent after an injury like that," Annette said. "Not saying that you couldn't get it back up to snuff, but there are going to be times where it'll mess with how quickly you can get out of a tight spot. And for a sweeper, that's dangerous."

"The whole job is dangerous, but I see your point," Saya admitted. "So, what? I just switch fighting styles entirely? Stop sweeping? I'm a close range shooter with a few good tricks up her sleeve. Being quick is kind of important to how I do things now, but there's no way I'm going to quit. Sweeping is my life."

"Well, I did some digging. Before we leave you could get some rifle training down at the police station," Annette suggested.

"With this arm?" Saya asked, wiggling the fingers that were barely visible from her sling. "I might be able to pull a trigger, but there's no way I could hold a gun of that size…"

"You don't hold a rifle with your dominant hand. You only use it to squeeze the trigger. Still, you have a couple weeks or so and you're healing much faster than most people normally would. I'm just throwing the idea out there," Annette said as she turned back to the dishes. Saya looked at the cash register, her mind on the boot encasing her foot and her free finger having moved to toying with the ribbon around her neck. She knew getting back into the sweeping game after these kinds of injuries would not be easy by any means, but…

"I'll look into it when my arm's a bit stronger," Saya promised. As she turned around, the bell on her neck jingled playfully and a lighthearted smile danced across her lips. "I'm not the kind of person who's going to take these kind of hits laying down."

Annette smirked and Saya let out a cheerful chuckle. The month of moping was over. She would keep her eyes fixed straight ahead in her life and do her best to overcome whatever difficulty came her way.

And if she ever met up with Train again… well, she hoped she would get a chance to set things right by him someday.

But until then, she would move forward. No regrets, no tears, no what ifs. Just walking forward—maybe even running someday.

* * *

"You can't blame yourself, V."

"Mind your own business."

"Neither of us have that luxury and you know it."

"What do you want me to do? Sit here and wait for orders?"

"We both know the answer to that."

The sound of flesh hitting concrete. An angered growl.

"Creed will pay for this…"

"We will catch him. He will pay for this and his other crimes. Lowering yourself to that level won't do you any good. It won't do X any good either."

A hand falls from the wall. Still fisted.

"Come on, XI. We have work to do."

A nod.

* * *

Goat Town was a small blip on the map that Train had not expected to run across. He had taken to making a stop in every city he came to. Exploring, trying to live his life in a way that might satisfy his eternal curiosity. And while he enjoyed it, he still missed Saya's company. There were quite a few novelties he had taken note of which he was sure she would have enjoyed.

 _I wonder if they have any goats here_ … he thought idly as he pulled his bike into town. Not that he had much energy to think, in any event. His stomach was screaming at him to pay attention and feed it sometime soon. But he did not find any open restaurants nearby. Instead, what he came across seemed like a scene from some cheap cowboy movie.

The streets were dirt, the wooden buildings were all shut up, and there was only one stranger on the street. A stranger with a white suit, a white hat, and some extremely odd looking green hair.

Train was pretty sure he would have seen a tumbleweed come across the road if that same gust of wind had not pushed his now light frame over. He could barely hear the stranger's concerned shouts as he was finally able to convey what it was he was desperately lacking.

"F-food… H-hungry…"

He had no idea if it was because the man felt sorry for him or if someone up top finally took pity on him or if the stars had just aligned in the right way to give him some good luck. Regardless of whichever it was, he ate his weight and then some when he was presented with the wonderful food.

"I am revived!" Train shouted. The overwhelming relief of finally being fed showed on his face. "I would have preferred milk to orange juice, but… thanks, man."

"You know you ate my food too, right?" the green-haired man griped, giving Train a look of sheer annoyance. He was certainly serious.

"It's been so long since I've been full," Train mused aloud. "It seems like I never have any money anymore."

"You're a sweeper, aren't you?" the man asked. Train blinked and sat up straight.

"Woah?! How'd you know that?" Was there some sort of staple about sweepers dying from hunger that he had never known about? Why did no one tell him these things? Was the universe plotting against him? How cruel…

"That gaudy piece strapped to your leg gave it away," the man said, resting his head upon his hand. Train was impressed as he continued. "You're either a licensed sweeper or a thug. And you don't have the mug of a thug."

The comment surprised him. If this green-haired man had met him around the time Saya had, he would have definitely said that his mug belonged to a thug. A highly skilled thug, but a thug nonetheless. Ah, the wonders of a good mug.

He decided to have a little fun.

"You like my mug?" The reaction he received was priceless. Mister serious managed to break character long enough to look decently freaked out. But given that he had paid for Train's meal and all, he decided it would be better to shoot straight with the guy. "I'm kidding!"

Cue immediate relief.

"But you're right," Train continued, pulling out his—incredibly deflated—wallet, showing his ID. "I am a licensed sweeper. Though I've only been on the job for three months."

"A greenhorn," the other observed, lighting a cigarette. He took a drag before continuing. "I gather you got a tip about the Parodem gang."

"Parowhat?" Train asked. "Who's that? I don't know anyone by that name."

"You've never heard of the Parodem gang?!" the super serious mister smoker sweeper said, finally losing his cool. It caught Train a little by surprise and he was certain it showed on his face.

"No…" he answered honestly. "I was just passing through. I've just been touring the country on my bike."

"T-touring?" the green-haired man asked. He seemed to be at a loss for a moment, but then recover quickly. "So tell me… how many targets have you captured in three months?"

"Just one. A purse-snatcher. It's not easy finding real criminals, ya know," Train said. Still, he was grateful to that one purse snatcher. That four fifty had gotten him gas, a place to sleep for a night, and a few maps that were now securely nestled on the side of his bike.

"Well, that explains why you've been going hungry," the man said. Train chuckled at his own misfortune. Leave it to him to forget to buy food in the middle of all that. He would not forget that one ever again.

"Yeah, I've been telling myself I need to start getting serious about this," he admitted. He needed to make time to do the actual work and have the fun all at once. To do that, he supposed he needed to start with the intel and prep work. He blinked. Might as well learn from someone who has obviously had a few years in this game. "So what do you know about this Parodem guy?"

"Here," the man said, placing a piece of paper on the table. Train took a quick look and the numbers certainly surprised him.

"The bounty's $65,000?!"

"Look at the risk level," the man advised. Train's eyes moved over as he continued to speak. "He's an A-class criminal. Look, if you're not serious about this, you shouldn't risk going up against a guy like Parodem."

To see if he could get more information, Train tried to quickly read over the sheet. The intel on this guy listed a number of weapons he had been known to use, a few dirty tactics he had deployed, and the fact that he was willing to harm any civilians—even women and children—to escape. This guy was cold…

"He's gathered a gang of like-minded criminals who've sworn allegiance to him and they're running guns," the green haired man said.

"Here? In this town?" Train asked. It seemed a bit small to house a large criminal operation.

"Yeah. They took out the local law enforcement last week," the man said, snuffing his cigarette out against one of the cans. He looked around to the shut up buildings and continued. "The people are terrified. They won't even go outside. They're waiting for the gang to just leave..."

Suddenly, the man stood. Train watched as the smoke from his exhausted cigarette floated up in an almost theatrical manner. "…which is not going to happen. So it's up to me."

"You're a sweeper too, then?" Train asked, confirming his earlier suspicions.

"For almost three years now."

"Think you've got enough experience to take on this guy?" Train thought of him as a little straight-laced, but he was kind enough to feed a random stranger. A person like that should be prepared if this guy was so dangerous.

"I guess we'll find out," the man said as he turned away. "He's A-class and he's got a crew. But knowing those guys are out there…I have to do something."

A strong feeling of justice. That was this man's motivation for becoming a sweeper. Train supposed he had at least an adept amount of skill if the man had stuck it out for three years and not died of hunger yet.

Or a shot. Train could just imagine her getting angry at him for that comment right about now.

"Anyway, you might wanna skip town before this goes down. And…find yourself a regular job, buddy. For your own sake," the green haired man said as he began to walk off, leaving Train with the remainder of his—albeit depleted—groceries. "Lunch is on me."

Train watched as the man left him. A strong sense of justice, a concern for those he really need not bother with at all, and a confidence to get things done. The greenhorn sweeper smiled.

"A little serious," he said aloud to no one in particular. "But that guy is one of the good guys."

 _ **AmyNChan: Okay, so last time I didn't have them grow at all. Just kind of mope and be like "oh, now I'm better!" It wasn't all that great, so I added the scene with the alluded to purse-snatcher to show some sort of self-epiphany with Train. He's kinda carefree when he meets up with our favorite tinkerer, so I wanted to show that taking place.**_

 _ **Saya: Hey!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: What?**_

 _ **Saya: You're completely switching up my fighting technique! Rifles are a lot different than handguns in fighting, breathing, spacing, lining up your fire—**_

 _ **AmyNChan: I know.**_

 _ **Saya: You know?!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: Yup. Did some research and watched a bit of Top Shot to help me understand it, but I actually think the rifle will be easier on your dominant arm. There's also a few cool aspects on the rifle that you'll enjoy.**_

 _ **Saya: Like what?**_

 _ **AmyNChan: I'm afraid you'll have to wait to find out. XD**_

 _ **Saya: Hey! That's so unfair!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: In any event, I want to pause here and say thank you to everyone who's been kindly reviewing (all 3 of you guys! Honestly, I love your input!) and to everyone who's said "sure, let's give this a shot and follow" (all 7 of ya~! *^_^*). Rewrites aren't easy, and it's about to get a lot tougher, but I hope I can produce a story that will entertain and answer some of the questions left by the last version. *^_^***_

 _ **Saya: And to those of you who are new and didn't read 'What If', we're welcoming you and hope that all of this makes sense!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: So, yeah! Thanks, all, and I hope this continues to be one heck of an adventure~! *^_^***_


	7. Chapter 7

_**AmyNChan: Woot! Another chapter is up~! *^_^***_

 _ **Train: Any notes to make?**_

 _ **AmyNChan: Hmmm... not really. XD**_

 _ **Train: Ah, okay. Well, Amy-chan doesn't own Black Cat!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: Nope, nope~! *^_^***_

"You're doing really well, Miss Minatsuki," the physician noted. Saya winced as he extended her arm once more, but knew he was only doing it to help with the healing process. Still, it sort of hurt. "It's really very incredible that the bullet didn't hit anything that would set you in the sling longer than this…"

"I guess I'm pretty lucky then, huh?" Saya said, smiling despite the discomfort in her arm. "So does this mean I can start with heavy lifting and getting back to my hobbies again?"

"As long as you don't go out and start lifting elephants," the man joked. While amused, the girl wanted a straight answer. "You should probably build up your endurance little by little. You said you've been working at a restaurant?"

"As a waitress. I've been allowed to start taking food orders to customers over the past couple of weeks," Saya informed him, ignoring the underlying question. The doctor made no motion to return to the topic of _how_ she had gotten shot in the first place. Along with the very _peculiar_ foot injury she had sustained. Somehow, he had gotten enough tact to quit asking after the second visit when she had admitting to shooting for a hobby and given him a firm whack upon the head. "Sometimes the orders go up to about five or even eight pounds."

"What are those people eating?" he asked as he scribbled upon his clipboard. Saya shrugged. All she knew was that she could now hold five pounds no problem.

For a short time, at least.

"If you're careful with how you push yourself, then yes, you can start lifting heavy things and do light exercise again," the doctor relented. Saya cheered, accidentally extending her arm a little too fast for her discomfort to allow.

"Ow…"

"I don't think I need to remind you to pace yourself?"

"No, sir…"

"Good," the doctor said as he finished writing his recommendation on a slip of paper. "As for your other question, my personal advice is for you to wait a bit longer."

"And your professional opinion…?" Saya asked, prodding for a medicinal answer. Don't get her wrong, she was grateful for the man's concern but she wanted to move on with her life as swiftly as possible. She held her breath for a short while as she waited for his retort. After a resigned sigh, he finally gave her the answer she wanted.

"Due to the fact that rifles have lesser amounts of recoil than many pistols, you may start shooting them for very brief periods of time. No longer than an hour at a time, understood?"

"Yaa—ow!"

The man of medicine looked wearily at his charge. "I'm not sure if you know what 'pacing yourself' is…"

"I'll be fine," Saya said, carefully maneuvering her healing arm back to her side. She would have to stretch it gradually and go back to the shooting range. She had gone yesterday and the police had refused to let her shoot without some sort of doctor's note.

Oh, how good it would feel to be able to hold a gun after three months…

"As for your foot, it got a bit of an infection while you were doing whatever it is you were doing and it's healing a bit more slowly than your arm," the doctor informed her as he took the sling away. "My professional and medical opinion is to keep the crutch on for a while, not to mess with the boot, and come see me before you start trying to put all of your weight on it. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," she said, feeling slightly deflated. With the good news there almost always came the bad. The doctor seemed to notice her abrupt change in manner and shot her a smile.

"Don't worry, with how well you've been healing I'm sure you'll be rid of the crutch in about a month or so."

"I sure hope so," Saya smiled.

* * *

"The trouble, gentleman, is that you have refused to delegate this power to others, believing that only yourselves are required to redeem the power of Tao for the rest of the world to behold."

"Are you doubting our abilities?!"

"Not at all, Maro. I simply mean that it seems Tao can manifest itself differently with various people and bring about radically different aspects in each. Such powers—when brought together and cooperative—could build a team which would be more than capable of turning this world. Capable of defeating Chronos."

"You must ponder these choices carefully, Creed. Were this elixir to fall into the wrong hands—"

"Our goal would be sabotaged before its first mission is undertaken, I understand. I would not betray your secrets or your trust lightly, Shiki."

"So, what do you wanna do? Build a super-team? Where would we even start?"

"I propose a test. There is a certain type of individual who could be quite useful to our cause. However, this theory should be tested on a weaker specimen in order to evaluate the sort of reaction we can come to expect from future 'team members'. No need to waste potential candidates, after all."

A moment of silence. Words spoken with care absorbed with curiosity.

"Is there a specimen you have in mind already?"

* * *

Train was perched on a cliff that overlooked the valley—and, by association, Goat Town—below. His sharp eyes quickly found the green haired stranger walking across the desolate wasteland. His target? Obviously the abandoned building that was merely a few yards away. It was a large building containing—if the outside were anything to judge it by—an open space within. Of course, Train had chosen a spot with perfect access to a window so he could see this vast space within, albeit terribly. While the inside was not lit very well, he was sure he would be able to pick up a thing or two from the fight.

"I wonder how he's gonna deal with A class danger…" the learning sweeper mused aloud. He watched as the man readied his gun and entered the building.

"Stealthy… maybe an ex-cop?" he asked himself. He waited for about a minute when he saw something rather odd. Smoke pouring out of the building's only orifice and clouding his view of the inside. The action happened too quickly for any normal battle to have taken place and the brown haired sweeper was sure that the white suited man would have a hard fight with someone who screamed so much trouble.

As precious seconds ticked by, he saw no one leave the building. Not an escaping con. Not a sweeper with strange green hair. Not even a mouse.

" _They're waiting for the gang to leave…which is not going to happen. So it's up to me."_

" _Knowing those guys are out there…I have to do something."_

"Huh… I guess even good guys need rescuing," Train stated as he popped to his feet. Walking into the building with no plan seemed like a bad idea, so he decided to go with the next best thing.

His bike was revved up and ready to go in only a few seconds. The sleek beauty took just as long to speed straight off the cliff and into the nearby window at its master's command. The sound of glass crashing all around him drew the attention of everybody in the building just long enough for him to skid to a very impressive stop.

It was absolutely awesome.

"Gah!"

"Who is that guy?"

He had everybody's attention. Might as well make the show worth it. He smirked before revving his bike into full speed.

His first two shots were fired before the gang realized what exactly had hit them. They were scrambling to make a counter attack—a very clumsily made counter attack—by the time his third and fourth shots had fired off. A few guns had begun to fire back when he had shot his sixth round. Train whipped the bike around as he loaded his gun once more. The criminals were shooting in earnest, yelling loudly as if to assert dominance or try to intimidate him.

Neither worked, in any event. Had he mentioned he was having fun by this point?

A figure turned sharply in the dust, the action quick enough to make a visible path through the dirty air. He had a black hat and an equally inky coat draped around his figure. He had feral eyes and a long, pointed face. Equipped on his left hand was a small gun pointed in Train's direction, taking shots at him. And while Train was a rapid menace on his bike, some of those shots hit their mark all too well.

A fierce explosion rocked the entire building to its very foundation. The man in black—presumably Parodem—lifted his hands in celebration and released a whoop of pure ecstasy.

"Fireworks, boys!" he crowed to what little remained of his standing team. The smoke from the smoldering mess of bike rose towards the ceiling, but no one paid heed to such a detail save for Parodem. That pillar of smoke represented two more bodies added to the growing tally of sweepers dead by his hand.

Or so he thought.

"Incoming!" Train chimed from his position in the air. His hand was a tad singed and his clothes now had a bit of soot on them, but that was perfectly fine. His aim was true and he could pull a trigger.

And that was all he needed to deliver a touch of bad luck.

An hour or so later found Train at the same cliff edge he had begun at, this time without his trusted bike to keep him company. In its place was the green haired sweeper who had somehow made it through the entire ordeal with only a bruise. Talk about lucky.

"I can't believe it," he said. His tone was not the obviously incredulous type, but rather the quietly awed sort. "The assassin called the Black Cat is still alive... and he wrapped it up without a single kill. Why...?"

"Well," Train said, already knowing what the man was about to ask and willing to head it off right there. "It's not like I enjoy killing. That's not what I'm about."

Train watched as the valley below scurried with police from a nearby town, all of them busy in the face of cleaning up the huge mess he had left behind. All of the criminals were now on gurneys, groaning of pain or cussing the memory of the greenhorn sweeper who had taken them out.

 _At least they're alive to cuss about it..._ Train thought as he watched them all. The adrenaline was wearing off, but for once, the feeling of peace remained. It was a good feeling to not feel the return of his worries.

"Your bike is trashed," the man pointed out. "You can ride with me."

"Thanks."

Train followed the well dressed man out to a small car and hopped in. They took a detour to the police station before heading out of town.

"Here. Your share of the bounty," he said, passing an envelope to Train. The brown-haired man widened his eyes of surprise. He could not be serious... "You earned it."

"Nah, I was just trying to repay you for lunch," Train said, turning his head away from the envelope. "Besides, it was your intel."

Mr. green-hair certainly seemed surprised at that. "But—"

"Forget it!" Train said, a smile on his face as he watched the road. It flew by just as quickly as it came to them, changing every second. He hoped that was the way his life would continue to be like. Changing with every single moment, never wanting to close his eyes for fear of missing a single thing yet also unafraid to take a breather and relax. "I didn't become a sweeper for the money. A simple carefree life...that's all I want."

A life of peace and adventure all in one.

A moment of silence passed where Train just watched the road. The wind felt great with the window down. It was not his bike, but it still had a certain sense of freedom that he very much enjoyed. Tranquil and exciting all at once. This was his life now and he could not be more grateful for it.

"You know, you never told me your name."

"Train Heartnet," he introduced, turning to the man. "And you?"

"Sven Vollified."

* * *

"Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah, this sure beats prison food any day of the week!"

"That is fortunate. And your newfound abilities?"

"They're amazing! With this power, this Tao thing, I could—"

"I trust you have not forgotten who it was that released you from your shackles. As well as how those shackles were cut from you."

A strained silence.

"No."

"Then I do believe you have a bargain to fulfill."

A fisted hand and clenched teeth. A comfortable posture and a rose.

"Who's the target?"

"Not just yet. First, there are some...details...which you should be made aware of. After all, we would not want your week-long coma to be in vain, would we?"

A restrained growl. A pleasant smile.

A tension of promised death.

* * *

"The shooting range again?" Annette asked as her employee geared up to leave. The restaurant had closed merely five minutes ago, leaving the streets dark with only the occasional streetlamp to light the girl's well-worn path. Saya shrugged with a sheepish grin.

"Can't afford to get sloppy," she said. Despite the boot still attached to her leg and the crutch under her arm, the girl seemed to walk with a certain pep in her step. It had been there ever since she had poured the entirety of her earned cash into that new gun of hers. When she was not working, that girl was taking the thing apart, putting it back together, going over the different methods of shooting, reviewing the differences between her new carbine and her old pistol, or taking that gun to the shooting range.

Along with eating and sleeping, of course.

"Can't afford to live a little either, right?" Annette asked. She polished off the last glass—they had seen a couple of drunkards to the door those five minutes ago—and set it back in its place. Drunkards were far better patrons to her store than regulars. Drunks almost always tended to let the information that was important to them slip. It was usually up to Annette to filter the useful from the useless in terms of sweeping information, though.

"You make it sound like I don't know how to have fun anymore, Annette," Saya joked. She took ten steps in the woman's direction before leaning on her crutch once more. She had been taking more unassisted steps since Wednesday and anyone could tell she was ecstatic about that. Heck, even the patrons who were new to the store knew how filled with cheer the girl was! "We're leaving town in two days and I've only had a couple weeks' worth of shooting practice. My arm's gotten better, but my aim's still a bit shaky. How about when we move, we have a girl's day out?"

"I wouldn't count on it," Annette chuckled. While she was slightly envious of Saya and her desire to get up and go places, she was perfectly content to run her store and her business. "I still have work to do."

"Oh? Now who's the one avoiding fun?" Saya teased. Annette smirked.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, robo-girl."

"I'm off then. I'll be back around one," Saya laughed as she slung her new gun over her shoulder carefully. Annette nodded and waved her off.

"You have a key."

Saya smiled as she left the shop, leaving Annette to smoke in peace. The girl was no trouble, but it was quickly becoming apparent that she needed to get a move-on. Being still for three and a half months was counter-intuitive for her. Even though she had gotten the okay to shoot and was therefore able to move around a bit, she was still acting like some caged up cat.

"This move cannot come soon enough…" Annette said aloud as she let her head slide backwards. She watched the smoke continue on its well-worn pattern of twisting to a ceiling it would never reach. The same old story over and over again. By now, it was a monotonous and dull thing. She chuckled. "Maye I need this move as much as she does. This store can be a bit boring..."

It was a few moments before Annette rose her hand to wipe the tiredness away from her eyes. She could not afford to be slipping. Saya would be leaving her employment within a few months, as soon as her leg had healed enough to warrant the complete abandoning of her crutch, and then they would both be flying solo again. That girl had been allowing the elder woman to pamper herself in terms of actually catching decent naps again.

She would miss those naps when Saya went.

The bell jingled faintly, catching the attention of the tired entrepreneur. A frown creased itself onto her face.

"We're closed," she announced to the opening door. She needed to remember to lock it right after Saya went out on her midnight escapades. She would have no business after closing hours. She was already supposed to be asleep!

"I'm waiting for someone," a voice said from behind the door. Gruff and edgy, it was a sound that put Annette on guard immediately. "Is it okay if I wait inside for a while?"

"Sorry, but I just said we're closed," Annette asserted, coming around to the front. She was going to force him out if she had to. Something about him and the fact that he was meeting someone at midnight did not sit quite right with her.

"That's a shame..."

* * *

"Of all the nights to be shut down for maintenance..." Saya muttered as she trudged her way back to the store, the reminder of that sign absolutely killing her with every handicapped and crutch-supported step. "I know it's not usual for people to practice at midnight, even if it is a privately held security shooting range, but some of us actually do these sorts of things..."

She sighed heavily, her new gun slung over her shoulder. Her groupings had been getting tighter and tighter with each practice session even though the instructor had already deemed her a good shot on her first day. Yet for her, that was not enough. A stray bullet could kill her target instead of incapacitating them, could brand her a murderer. She had never lost one before and she would certainly not start now simply because of a new weapon.

Plus, she wanted to see if she could pull off her little ace in the hole with this gun. Despite only having it for a week, her confidence with the device was allowing her to think of possibly using the reflect shot with it. And given the fact that it accepted her pistol's ammunition, she would already have a set of tailored specialty bullets for her to use.

It was a definite possibility.

Saya rounded the corner onto the street that held the shop, fully intent on going inside and getting some much needed shuteye. Her foot was beginning to throb from the five block walk and she knew she really needed to...

"What on earth is that?" she asked aloud even though there was no one to hear her.

The door to Annette's shop was open, yet there was a sheer amber substance veiling the entrance thinly. It was ever so slightly limpid which allowed the young sweeper woman to make out a large burly object just beyond. It took strides in front of the door, almost akin to a large cat pacing before its prey. Waiting for it to come out of hiding.

This could not be her friend. After all, Annette was no six foot seven. Nor did she pace like that. A waste of time is what she called it when Saya complained of not being able to pace.

But if the figure pacing before the door was not Annette, then who was it? And where did Annette go?

Saya wasted as little time as possible getting out of the light. It would not do for this person to know she was there until she had an idea about what exactly she was up against. After all, she still had her crutch, which was a liability all on its own. Her foot already throbbing incessantly, the trek to an alleyway with a good visibility into the restaurant was a feat in and of itself.

When she found a good position, she slung her new tool over her shoulder and peered into the scope. While not always practical for her profession with how much she would be needed to run around once she was on her feet, she was glad she had gotten this particular model. She would have never guessed to have needed the night vision it provided so soon.

Through the circular optics, she found a decently cleared patch in window through which she could survey the situation. The burly figure was still pacing in a spot where she could not see him. But she could now see Annette. And she did not like what she saw.

The woman was pinned against the wall with a busted lip and a bruised eye, obviously shouting at her captor. There was a thin film of the odd substance surrounding her, and judging from how her friend struggled, it was a either pretty tough or fairly thick substance. Maybe even a bit of both.

"At least she's conscious…" Saya breathed, relief flooding through her system. Before the slight relaxation could alter her stance too terribly much, her target walked right into her line of sight.

Her eyes widened in recognition.

* * *

"This can't be right…" Sven muttered as his GPS continued to steer them down a long and windy road. They should have arrived at their hotel by now and their gas was getting too low. He pulled off to the side of the road and decided to finagle with the device himself.

"Hm? We there yet?" Train asked. Given that it was nearly midnight, the former Black Cat—Sven could still scarcely believe it, yet he knew it to be true—had been asleep.

"Did you put in the address I told you to while I was in the station?" Sven asked, going through the GPS menus in order to get to the particular screen he wanted. A lack of answer told him everything he needed to know. It was surprising how well people picked up on others' habits after a grand total of three weeks.

"You had one job…" the green haired sweeper moaned as he found that Train had put in the right words, but the wrong zip code. It would take them at least one hundred more miles and they had started this trip earlier in the afternoon.

"Don't worry about it, Svenny," Train said, suddenly awake, alert, and somehow chipper. Where had that sleepy attitude from five minutes ago gone? "I'll drive."

Sven cast a weary eye over at his partner. Their budding friendship was definitely an odd one, but he knew the kid actually had a good heart. As for his driving skills…he actually had no clue yet.

"Come on. You're exhausted and I promise not to drive through any windows," Train said. Before Sven could argue or deny his offer, he had already hopped out of the car. Sven sighed. The kid had won this one. He wordlessly shifted over to the passenger side and adjusted his seat so he could relax. He listened rather than watched as Train pulled the car out of the shoulder.

"Train…" Sven started. He wanted to say 'be careful with my car' or 'don't do anything stupid'. However, his brain was too tired to lecture at the present moment, so he settled for "Thanks."

"No problem," came Train's simple reply.

Right before he gunned it on the empty highway. Sven's eyes snapped open and he hung on for dear life, now unable to even entertain the idea of sleeping with this man at the wheel.

What in all the world had he just unleashed?

 _ **AmyNChan: Lolol, tell me you guys never noticed that Train**_ _ **never**_ _ **drives Sven's car... XDDD Slight headcannon, Train's a reckless driver and Sven won't get into a car he drives. XD**_

 _ **Train: Hey!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: Oh, you know I love you, dude. XD**_

 _ **Train: *grumbles***_

 _ **AmyNChan: In any event, try to make a guess at the make of Saya's new gun! Wolfy, you can't guess cause you already know. XD Though I'll give you some hints: it's a real gun and made by the same company that makes her cannon gun~! *^_^***_

 _ **Saya: *pulls out her new gun* Let's do this!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: yaaaay! *^_^* Please read and review~! *^_^***_


	8. Chapter 8

_**AmyNChan: Lolol, this took a while to get done. XD**_

 _ **Saya: Why was that?**_

 _ **AmyNChan: I was off-and-on speaking to a gun enthusiast who helped me to understand how to use a rifle. I even got to fire off a few pistols in the name of research!**_

 _ **Train: Don't you hate guns?**_

 _ **AmyNChan: *shudders* just shows how much I love my readers…**_

 _ **Saya: In any event, it's time to fight!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: Yeah!**_

 _ **Train: Amy doesn't own Black Cat.**_

"Bastard!" the woman spat yet again. He was getting really tired of that by now. The first few murders had been almost fun…to be in control of a victim that was so helplessly at his mercy and to revel in their angered or shocked cries at his animalistic tendencies. That had been fine. It had been _fun_ , especially when it was they who were in the wrong. But now?

Now it was just a hassle.

"Shut up, woman," he growled, glaring at her from across the room. He should have done more than bust her lip and give her a black eye. Should have strangled her. Should have killed her already.

But no. He was not going to kill this one. She recycled. That alone made her angry splutterings annoying rather than down right infuriating. Also, this woman was not his target. It was the girl she had been housing for the past few months.

He had done his proper looking around and researching. His employer had said to look for a brown-haired, new, male sweeper of about twenty-one years on a bike and he would find his target. But after a bit of digging, he realized his target preferred to work alone. She would not have stayed with the biker for too long. Following their old trail and asking around the neighborhood had been a tedious task, but it told him that he was right. The injured sweeper woman had been left behind in this town.

The perfect prey. Such a weak, defenseless, and injured lamb. All too perfect for a predator such as he to catch.

"Let me down from here, you creepy goon!" the woman barked. Her incessant demands reminded him of a yapping dog at best. He paused in his pacing and flung some more at her, his weapon landing perfectly on her face. As long as he was keeping her from talking, she would refrain from breathing.

But that was fine. If she could not live with the wonders of nature, she deserved to die.

Recycling be—

"Argh!" he shouted as a burst of pain blitzed into his arm. His ability was able to staunch the bleeding fairly quickly, especially given that the bullet only grazed his arm, but the wound certainly stung. It was guaranteed infection without some aloe on hand. He cast his glare all around the windows of the shop, wondering where on earth the shot had come from.

There! A gap in his defenses! He flung his hand up to patch the hole and sent a bit more out into the night.

Whoever was out there was certain to get a sweet surprise. Sickly sweet.

* * *

"It has been decided."

"His actions will be monitored once he reappears on the radar, this time we shall not lose him."

"And his accomplice? The one who led him astray?"

"As of now, she is inconsequential until such a time where his services are required once more or when he poses such a threat."

"When such a thing happens…"

"…there will be no hesitation."

A crackling silence. The static of screens.

"Is this the consensus of the elders?"

"It is."

"It is, Wizark."

"Good. Then we shall fetch number I."

* * *

"Ugh..." Saya grunted, recovering from her misstep. Her foot was driving her insane and had caused her to lose footing, leading her to lose her already weak aim just as she had fired her shot. She cast a glance forward and was surprised by the projectile coming towards her face. She swiftly dodged from her already lowered position and the strange substance hit the wall behind where her head had been before her tumble.

It left no bullet wound. Instead, it splattered on the wall and began to dribble down in accordance with steady gravity.

"Light's no good here... what is this stuff?" Saya asked with a frown. She shook her head of the distraction. She needed to see what the goon was up to. Quickly, she lined her sights back up with the hole she had busted through his defenses only moments prior.

Not even a scratch. Even thicker than before, actually. But how…? Even though the accuracy was not the best with this gun—especially in using rounds made for a pistol instead of typical rifle rounds—she had accounted for that technical drawback in taking her shots and in training. How could she have been so far…?

A sickly sweet smell came to her nose and she turned towards its source. There was no way she could be smelling pancakes at midnight, could there? She reached out a finger and touched it. It was a sticky albeit slightly runny substance. Yet it hardened almost immediately upon contact. Saya swiped her hand away from the liquid rapidly turning solid. The portion of her finger that had touched it now had a firm layer of the substance practically glued to her skin. It was hard as rock and just as flexible.

Good thing she had decided to poke it with a finger that was unnecessary for pulling the trigger.

"It's sap...but something's wrong. It's not supposed to turn hard unless it's practically _boiling…_ " she muttered aloud. She glared back at the criminal she could barely see through the window. But now... now she had a name and a history to go with that burly frame and strange choice of weapon.

Princeton Goods, an extreme naturalist who all but worshiped nature. A true green freak. The beginning of his criminal career was nothing large. Public indecency and living off the grid for a number of months. He, of course, had gotten into legal trouble for his minor transgressions. His response had been far less than ideal from someone in his situation. Thirteen civilians and five cops had been killed in the name of his idea for a perfect society sans electricity or technology of any sort. He had shown no mercy and had even kidnapped a child in an attempt to force them into his way of living. Due to the child being sickly, they had died within the four months it had taken the authorities to track them down.

Goods had been arrested on-sight while attempting to crudely cremate the child's body. He had been imprisoned for about a year before his mysterious escape only a week ago. The question, however, was what a man like that had business doing in a place like this.

And that sap as well… there was no way for that to be normal.

Saya took aim again, this time looking for another weak point in the saplike substance. If she could line him up with said weak point, she might be able to get off two shots in succession. She carefully swept the area around the shop, searching for her chance while keeping in mind the corrections she would have to make concerning accuracy. Not large, as her target was just across the street, but significant enough to cause trouble for her if she were not careful.

" _When you shoot a gun, it's important to never rush,"_ a memory from her past whispered. He had been a police officer that had noticed her going in and out of the system for many years when he taught her self-defense. When he had handed that twelve year old her first gun, she had known it was the life for her. _"When you hurry, you make mistakes. Shoot on your own terms."_

" _What if I'm in danger or someone near me is? How am I gonna shoot on my own terms when someone could get hurt if I wait too long?"_

Saya cast a glance at Annette. A film of the rapidly drying sap covered her mouth and nose while her strugglings were swiftly decreasing in strength. A tenseness ran through Saya as she realized just how quickly her friend was losing air, almost chasing her well-ingrained training away.

" _Saya, if you hurry you could make the situation worse rather than better,"_ the man had said. The now older woman made herself breathe deeply and release the tension in her arms and chest. She scanned until she found yet another opening, made her corrections, then waited. _"Just aim your gun..."_

Goods was coming into position, but not yet...

" _...take aim. It's okay to lead a little bit if you're going after a moving target..._ "

A little closer.

" _Squeeze the trigger. Never pull."_

She applied the pressure.

" _When the recoil hits, let it go for a little bit. It makes the next shot easier to line up than trying to force the gun to stay still."_

Goods broke his lurking stride under the impact of her bullet and she wasted little time lining up another shot and making her corrections. He flung his hand forward, but the female sweeper seemed to be quicker than he had expected. Perhaps he was expecting her injuries to slow her down. Perhaps he was attempting to pinpoint her location in the darkness of night. Whatever it was that caused his hesitation, it allowed her third bullet to pierce his hand, rendering it useless and causing him too much pain to do much of anything useful for a few moments.

Saya breathed out, taking another glance at Annette. The film covering her face now had a sharp crack through the center. Could it be that this strange ability within the sap was somehow connected to his consciousness? While that theory was great and all, the entire thing needed to be done away with so Annette could get in the air she needed to retain consciousness. She turned her attention back to Goods, who was still howling over his injured hand.

Talk about getting in touch with your animalistic side...

" _No matter what..."_

"You'll pay for that, little lamb!" Goods screamed. He flung his non dominant yet uninjured hand forward and a huge amount of the sticky substance began to shoot through the windows with reckless abandon. Portions of it came from the reserves he had fired at Annette earlier, the woman sweeper noted as she caught a glimpse of her friend falling to the ground, coughing for all her worth and taking in as much air as possible after her moments without.

" _No matter the danger you may face or the problems you'll have to go through…"_

Saya could not dodge. She could not move anywhere all too quickly for need of her crutch and her disabled foot. Her eyes widened as she pulled her gun up once more, only one way out of this situation.

" _Always shoot on your own terms."_

She took the shot without account for accuracy error.

* * *

"…in other news, escaped convict Princeton Goods has passed away. Authorities assure the media that Goods was in adequate health upon arriving at the station two weeks ago, however—"

Train switched the station back to some jazz. No need to worry about bounties that were no longer up for grabs. That Princeton guy was a pretty big one, too… Deciding to can the thought, he looked over the map again and tried his best to place where they were.

"Hey, Sven, where are we going again?" Train asked as he rotated the map once more as he had been assigned the role of permanent navigator. For whatever reason, whenever he now offered to drive again on seeing his partner's fatigue the man always said the same thing:

'Never again in one hundred years.'

Train shrugged the man's hesitance off. Less driving meant more sleeping for him! Well, he slept when they were not discussing a new target or when he was not playing the part of dutiful navigator. This map was too big…

"We're going to get some intel," the green haired sweeper said. Train 'ooh'ed in recognition. Even though they had been working for a little over a month together, he still had no clue where Sven's tips for the really good bounties came from. He would only say "a friend" when asked.

"We just passed Limpton, right?" Train asked, watching the scenery fly by while scouring for clues as to their location. No signs in sight and no civilization except that in the rear view mirror. He tore his gaze away from the view in order to find the tiny dot on the map which marked the aforementioned town.

"Yeah," Sven said. "When do I take the off-ramp?"

"Give me a minute," Train said, finally locating the small mark on the huge map. He grinned at the small victory. "Okay, we'll want to take the sixteen to the forty three. Should be there within the half hour."

"Two off ramps in half an hour?" Sven asked. "That's not how I remember laying out the route this morning…"

"Right… we might have missed a turn back there," Train admitted as Sven pulled them onto the sixteen. "We were supposed to take the exit to the forty three and we would have gotten there in five minutes, but the writing on this map is so gosh darn small."

Train grinned while Sven sighed at his antics. The man did not hate him. Mildly annoyed with his behavior from time to time, maybe. But not hateful. It was a weird friendship which they had. After all, Sven could have left his sorry butt on the road after their first pit stop last month. But it turned out the two were a pretty great team.

Sven would often teach him tips and tricks on how to take captives alive—even though it was always far more fun when the convicts in question ran for their lives—and in return Train was a second opinion and second gun for his partner's prototype gadgets. His new partner turned out to be a great part-time inventor and made pretty useful things such as smoke screens and trick bullets which made their jobs much easier. Even though the trick bullets were all noise and sparkle, they sometimes scared their man into either spilling information or coming along quietly.

Sven's methods were scary sometimes. Great, but scary.

"So, you visit this friend often?" Train asked, getting back to the matter at hand relatively easily. If he wanted information, he would ferret it out without distraction, dang it. If he really wanted it, that was.

"Usually whenever they need help moving," Sven said. "That's normally how I pay for the information I get, but this time they moved without my help."

"Oh? You think someone else realized the sweet deal you were getting and jumped in on it?" the newer sweeper asked. He began to fold the map up. It was more difficult than a batch of birthday streamers to get under control.

"No," the green haired man said. Train watched him frown out of the corner of his eye. "This person doesn't tend to let people know about moving day until it's already gone by and they need their business back. It's how they go about getting new and good information in their new location. I only know beforehand because we've been friends for a long while now."

"Huh..." Train finally found the last fold he needed and stuffed the map unceremoniously back into the compartment of the car. With that done—the map would be fine anyways—he leaned back in his seat, placed his elbow out of the window, and watched as the country and fields flew by. Just as always, rushing past without a care. "But you sound worried about this person."

"They can take care of themselves, though they sounded a little hoarse when they were on the phone earlier," Sven admitted. Despite what he said, his knuckles were beginning to turn white on the wheel. "They asked me to come by if I had any new prototypes to try out. That's how I'm going to trade for information this time."

"Ooh, nice thinking," Train complimented.

"Thanks. Now, which exit am I going to take?"

"What? I just put the map away!"

"You weren't supposed to do that," Sven groaned at the wheel. He took a deep breath. "Can you at least remember the exit number?"

"Ummm..."

"Seriously?"

"I'm getting it, I'm getting it! Sheesh!"

* * *

"That was too close! He was a bad choice from the start!"

"On the contrary, Maro. He gave us the information I needed to ensure our success. Petty criminals such as he have no drive, no desire for the power to change this world. Motivation is an essential part of any revolution and we must ensure that our allies have the proper drive."

"Creed, the elixir takes much preparation to create and cannot be wasted for many more of these 'trials'."

"Which is why a single test such as this is sufficient. Thank you, men, for your faith thus far. We are ready to begin the preparations. To change this world, foundations must be laid at once."

"Where are you going?"

"To begin laying the foundations of our revolution. We shall need powerful support to rise once the chaos settles. Shiki, you will accompany me, correct?"

"That was the agreement."

"What am I supposed to do?!"

"Ensure that no one finds our base at the moment. We shall return swiftly."

"Tao guide you, Maro."

"Tao guide you, Shiki."

Two persons leave. The remaining hands left behind clench. Anger and suspicion hang in the air.

* * *

"I should probably start investing in a GPS," Sven muttered as he got out of the car. His new partner was hell on wheels, but he usually knew how to navigate correctly. Of course, this incident was not the first and nor would it be the last of such turn-arounds. While they always got to their destination, the extra gas was beginning to cost them.

 _How can one kid sleep so much when the cost of just living is already catching up?_ Sven thought, thinking back on the many times this month where Train had just slipped off into dreamland without warning. It was a question he asked himself many times, but he still had no answer. Still, the kid was good to have around. He had a nose for trouble and tended to find the bigger bounties without much difficulty when he was having fun. Over the past month alone, a few big shots had spotted his tattoo or even his holster and challenged him. Granted, the chaos that tended to ensue was not great to their wallet, but the bounties had a propensity to cover the damaging costs.

Mostly, at least.

"Come on, Svenny," Train chuckled as he closed the passenger door behind him. Sven frowned.

"I'm not 'Svenny', my name is Sven."

"Come on, that's no fun," the young man pouted. Before the elder of the two could react, Train was off again. "So, where are we headed?"

"It's just across the street. You can see the building for yourself," the gentleman sighed. He pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips, fiddling with his lighter. The flame flicked to life and caught the end of the small stick with ease. When the cigarette was lit, he stuck the lighter back into his pocket and sighed. It was a nice day to just enjoy the air for a moment.

"Train, what are you doing?" he asked, not needing to open his eyes to realize the younger of the two had opened the back seat of the car and was rooting around for something or another. It was not as though they had much to root through anyways.

"Nothing much," the younger man responded, continuing to dig around. Sven huffed.

"Liar."

"I'm just looking for something."

"Why didn't you look for it on the way here?"

"I didn't know we were coming _here_."

Sven sighed and opened his eyes. He turned around to see that Train had moved the seats aside and was digging around through the mess he had made of his stuff in the back. A small duffel bag's worth of items—including his clothes and personal hygiene items, which Sven had insisted he buy for himself—was being emptied of almost everything as Train hunted for the elusive item which he now sought.

"Got it!" Train said, pulling out a small bag from his duffel. Sven exhaled loudly and gave a pointed look at the mess the young man had made to get to his prize.

"Oh, fine," he groaned as he shoved everything back into the bag. It was a cluttered way of doing it, but the mess was clean and Sven could not complain. It was another moment before the seats were put back upright and the door was shut. Sven locked the battered vehicle and began walking across the street, the sign of _Caffé Cait Sith_ being his guide.

The bell chimed discretely above his head, alerting the shop owner to his presence.

"Hey, we're not open yet!" her voice said gruffly. As expected with this woman. He pushed the door open all the way and walked inside despite her warning.

"Hey, Annette. Long time no see," he said. His friend's face shifted from a guard to her normal expression. Slight exhaustion and a bit of a mean sarcastic streak.

"You haven't gotten yourself killed yet, Sven?" she asked. The man chuckled.

"I'm not that easy to get rid of," he quipped. He turned towards Train as he believed introductions were in order. "Train, this is the person who I get my information from. She's a former sweeper and excels in her trade of information. Hardly anything gets by her. This is Annette Pias."

"Nice to see you again!"

Wait.

"You're awful chipper. What's happened since I saw you last? Four months, wasn't it?"

What?

"I got revived by a green-haired sweeper."

"You two already know each other?" Sven asked, unable to help himself. Both parties looked at him with an expression that stated the answer he sought was obvious. Sven cleared his throat to clarify his question. "Annette's one of the best in the business when it comes down to information. If you two already knew each other, why did I find you starving back in Goat Town with no impressive bounties caught to speak of?"

"That's a bit harsh…" Train muttered, his eyes averting Sven's. Train was obviously going to be no help at all, so he turned to Annette, who was scratching the back of her head with a frown on her face.

"It's not really my place to tell this bit of info. Not really up for sale either," she admitted.

"Is she…" Train asked, pulling all attention to him. Now that Sven was looking, he could see Train attempting to get a better look behind the bar. Standing on his toes, leaning this way and that to get a better angle, glancing around to the rest of the shop. The bag in his hand was tightly held as he continued his search for…whatever it was he was looking for. "…she still here?"

"I told you there was a chance she'd be gone by the time you found us again," Annette said, her frown held firmly in place. Sven watched—gathering context clues but still hopelessly lost—as Train's shoulders dropped just the tiniest bit.

"So she's already gone?" he asked. A clarification that Sven did not think was necessary. Obviously, whoever Train was looking for was not in the shop. It was empty save for the three present.

A bell rang behind the three.

"What did I tell you, Annette? No faith at all," a voice said from the door. Sven turned around to see a young woman at the entrance, a Cx4 Storm slung over her shoulder and a kimono making her presence even more noticeable. She had a traditional geta on one foot and a large medicinal boot on the other. Her stance was allowing pressure to leave the boot, but the hand on her hip conveyed her slight irritation. However, if anything, the smile on her face counteracted any sort of tense atmosphere the rest of her body was projecting.

"Hey, Train. It's been a long time."

 _ **Saya: So, any words to say about this chapter?**_

 _ **AmyNChan: Sure. I think I mentioned it before, but "Princeton Goods" is actually the name of the company which created my AP European History textbook, a class I loathed. I'm just not a history person. XD Also, the history on Goods—which was not there before—was not meant to insult people who love nature. This guy's just an extremist in the worst possible way.**_

 _ **Saya: Didn't you slip some things from your other stories in this chapter?**_

 _ **AmyNChan: You have a good eye. XD**_

 _ **Saya: No, I just know what you were thinking when you wrote those two parts in particular.**_

 _ **AmyNChan: Well, it can be a game. There are references to two other works of mine in this chapter. To be nice, both of the references are to other Black Cat stories I've written. I could have done Ghost Hunt or FMA or something like that…**_

 _ **Saya: Anything else to note?**_

 _ **AmyNChan: hmmmm… nope, not really. XD Oh! One more thing—**_

 _ **Saya: *pulls out the gun* It's a Cx4 Storm if you hadn't picked up on that one. But it was only mentioned once, so… *grins* Has a bit of an accuracy error when you start shooting it with pistol rounds, but if you can account for it you're pretty much set.**_

 _ **AmyNChan: And if you don't?**_

 _ **Saya: *frowns and turns away***_

 _ **AmyNChan: …crap. Oh, well. Please read and review, guys! *^_^***_


	9. Chapter 9

_**AmyNChan: THIS. TOOK. SO. LOOOONG! *flops***_

 _ **Saya: Why did it take so long?**_

 _ **AmyNChan: How do I even human? *flops more***_

 _ **Saya: *turns to Train* Do you think she's broken?**_

 _ **Train: she might be... *pokes***_

 _ **AmyNChan: Yabuki-sensei, teach me your waaaays...**_

" _Hey, Train. It's been a long time."_

She was not quite sure what she had expected when Annette told her she was bringing in a friend to help her get new bullets. When the young woman had said she would pay for them on her own, Annette only shook her head and told her that these bullets were custom built and Saya would be unable to acquire them through anyone else. Saya had attempted to once again say she would pay, but Annette would have none of it. Information, not money, was probably what this man wanted in payment, especially since it had been Annette calling.

So Saya had hesitantly agreed. Now that the man had appeared in the shop so suddenly—there had been no clue as to when he would be coming, after all, as Annette had been vague on his arrival time and date—she knew that she had expected to see one total stranger with a package of cool bullets. Not one total stranger with a packet of cool bullets _and_ Train.

Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. Was she dwelling on the pain she had felt on that night—now about four months ago—when they had parted ways? Was she feeling excited at the prospect of seeing him again? Was she annoyed because he seemed happy without her?

 _Yeah right_ , Saya thought, realizing that her last thought could not be further from the truth. He was happy. She had seen that outside while she had been standing guard from one of the buildings across the street. Seeing a genuine smile on his face…

It put a smile on hers.

"Saya, it's—"

"Saya, I need you to go down the street and get me a pack of smokes. I'm out," Annette said. The young sweeper woman turned to her, confused about the sudden interruption and about to remind her that she had still no clue which brand Annette would want—Saya had seen her try at least three different brands in the past four months—but the woman cut her off. "Train, go with her. Sven just ran out of smokes too, right?"

"Huh? He did?" Train asked, turning towards the man. Saya turned towards him as well, curious. He seemed to be a new friend of Train's, which made her want to get to know him a little bit. It also made her want to thank him for taking care of Train for however long they had been hanging around each other. It seemed obvious to her that they had been hanging out for a while now.

"Uh... yeah. Used the last one just outside the shop. I was going to get some more after we were done here with Annette," the man said, his visible eye flicking from Annette to Saya to Train. "Just get the generic brand, I'm not picky."

"Okay. Saya?" Train asked, turning towards her. She shrugged. A random—and completely unnecessary—chore, maybe. But it gave her time to catch up with Train so she was fine with it.

"Coming," she said. It took her a moment to match pace with him, but he was kind enough to wait for her at the door. They left the store and took to the almost empty streets outside, walking an unbearably slow pace on account of her still-healing injuries. Well, unbearably slow for the likes of them, at least. "This boot is a real pain in the neck. I get to take it off tomorrow."

"That quickly?" he asked. He was relaxed and in no hurry whatsoever, or at least seemed to be in Saya's eyes. "It's only been four months since that happened."

"Four months still dealing with a foot injury surprises you, but the fact that I'm already out of a sling and shooting again doesn't get you to bat an eye?" Saya asked, shaking her head with a smile on her face. "You've gotten weirder, Train."

He did not deny it, but rather grinned. She liked that expression on him. "So is there a story behind the rifle? I thought you were trained for mainly using pistols."

"I was," Saya said, shifting the gun on her back. Her trusty Beretta '94 lay securely in her obi, right where it always was in case of emergency. "I can't do much at close range without the ability to move quickly, so I backed up, decided to have a bit more range, and got myself a Cx4 Storm. It can hold pistol rounds when I'm short on ammo, so it's good for when I'm penny-pinching."

"Doesn't that make it less accurate?" Train asked.

"Yeah," Saya answered, recalling the final round she had shot against Goods. Just how close he had come to death and the fact that it was perhaps her shot that had sent him over the edge and into his grave while at the station and away from her eyes. He had been deemed 'healthy for a criminal' upon arriving at the station, but with that bullet wound… "It does."

Saya's thoughts swirled about her. The pistol rounds she had been practicing with had allowed her to figure out how to make her groupings tighter and gave her more control over the carbine. Of course, with any error, it is always difficult to predict if such a thing will work out in your favor. That was her mistake in using the Storm against Goods. Her final shot had entered his chest cavity rather than his side or arm, which she had been aiming for. It had been far too close to not leave permanent damage.

And then he had died in police custody. Saya still wondered if it was complications from that shot which had put him six feet under.

"You've changed, too," Train said, breaking her from her reverie.

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, turning her attention back to the man beside her. She was anxious to not think about such things and his statement was the perfect escape.

"You've gotten quieter," he said, grinning. "I'm not sure if I should be thankful or creeped out, honestly."

"You're so rude!" Saya announced, her face flushing in false indignation. She would have stomped her foot if the action would not have given her more pain. The boot might have been coming off the next day, but that did not mean her injury was completely pain-free. "Your manners are still terrible."

"Aw, even after I held onto your stuff for you?" he asked. Saya swiftly turned around. Her stuff…? "I thought that was a nice thing to do, but if my manners really are that bad…"

"What are you talking about?" she asked. She knew she was taking bait, but it was Train. She would be fine. "I thought I got everything of mine off your bike before you dropped me off at Annette's?"

"Not all of it. You missed a few things. They might smell a bit like smoke, but they came out unscathed, which is good for you since I don't think they'd be any good to you if they actually caught fire," Train said, passing a small bag in her direction. Saya took it with curiosity, wondering two things at once. What had she left behind and how on earth had she not noticed the little bag sooner? The contents she found confused her.

"A sock and my comb?" she asked. The sock was completely random, but she had certainly been looking for her comb for what she now realized was four months. However, she quickly realized Train was right. "Why do they smell like smoke?"

"They were on my bike," he said, looking away and to the sky. Admittedly, Saya was a curious creature by nature.

"What happened to your bike?"

"It caught fire."

"How did that happen?"

"I ran into a gang."

"Are you going to give me more than one-lined answers?"

"Probably not."

"Train!"

Their banter continued to the shop, his laughter reverberating off the buildings around them. She knew he was messing with her, but she also knew that this was one of the few easygoing conversations they had had ever since they had run off together. One of the few easygoing conversations they had had period. She was not about to sabotage that in any way.

She would enjoy the presence of her best friend, even as he refused to tell her where the other sock went.

* * *

Sven mulled over the information he had just received and Annette waited for him to process silently. It was not much, but it was enough to know that this little stop could possibly break up the small partnership he and Train had formed.

To be perfectly honest, he was not sure how he felt about that. Over the course of the past month, they had somehow become a set of odd and fast friends, the first friend he trusted enough to watch his back on a continual basis since Lloyd in the IBI.

"She was actually getting ready to leave first thing after her doctor's appointment tomorrow," Annette said, pulling him from his thoughts. "She's been packing and exercising that leg of hers so she can get back into pistol shooting, but I wanted her to have some of your bullets for better aim. I can't have her coming back with even more holes in her, can I?"

"Is she that bad a shot?" he asked, fishing the promised custom bullets from his pocket. He passed them over for her inspection. They would pass as they always did.

"No," Annette said. She left the bullets on the counter, slightly confusing him. "She's gotten better with the Storm, but she's been practicing less and less. It's like she hasn't wanted to _touch_ the damn thing in the past few weeks."

Sven pondered her words. From what little he knew, the girl was a gunslinger like Train. In fact, from what he knew of Train, it sounded like this person—who he now knew was female, but had only known was an important person to Train before—was the reason he chose to live the way he did. Still, there was one thing he could not quite piece together.

"Information is your trade. I can't see you would be telling me so much without a price, even if we are friends," he said. Annette smirked at his blunt statement and he knew he was right. There was a reason for her telling him this, after all.

"There's a huge chance that those two could go their separate ways after this meet-up, but I don't think it'll happen. When Sweepers work in teams, it's easier to catch the bigger prey and watch each other's backs. Fact is that those two have a short history together and Train might want her on his team. You've worked on your own for years now, but how long will you last if you keep going that route?"

"That's going a little far, don't you think?" Sven asked, attempting to chuckle the accusation away. His chuckling ceased when she pulled a letter from behind the bar, edging it towards him. He gingerly picked it up, eyes widening as he realized this was one of her transactions. This was information that had been sold to her at a fickle price alongside information of her own, detailing the capture of the Parodem gang and providing basic outlines concerning the persons responsible for their arrest.

He should not have been surprised that one of her clients was a man inside the police. Even they had to keep in the know and it was perfectly legal business to obtain it through these lawful means.

"Safe to say that if your new partner hadn't been there you'd have been dead, but you've got the skill set, strategy, and drive to take down the bigger guns," Annette said.

"What's your point?" he asked, pushing the letter back towards the information barista. She took it back without looking away.

"Point is that you're a part of a team now and you can choose to leave it behind or let it grow," the woman said, picking up a cup and placing it before him, the scent of coffee being pleasant after such a sour conversation. He took it with a small word of thanks and mulled over the woman's arguments. Unfortunately, the words were ringing true. "And the way I see it, you're more than ready to fry some of the bigger fish already."

"I'll think about it," he promised before taking a sip of the hot beverage. She nodded and he knew this matter would be dropped. She was reliable in that aspect.

"By the way, a cup of coffee is two-twenty."

Coffee was spluttered all over the counter. "Are you serious?!"

"I'm running a business, not a charity!"

"That's so harsh…"

"I could always charge you for staying overnight, too."

"Please don't…"

* * *

"So how long are you in town?" Saya asked him as they made their way back to the shop. Train let his head fall backwards in thought. Sven had not actually said how long they were staying in any one place. They usually went about their business and then hopped off to the next adventure as soon as they were finished. Such had been their way for the past month.

It was quite freeing, in all honesty. He loved living this way.

"Dunno. There's not really a plan," he answered before turning his attention back to his partner in crime. "You said you get to ditch the boot tomorrow?"

"Yup," she said. Almost chirped it, actually. "After that I'm leaving Annette's. Not sure what I'll do after that, maybe go east? I hear they have some really weird festivals. Or even west! Opposite, but..."

The rest of his friend's words fell away from his ears. There was no way she was serious. He had just found her again and she would be off tomorrow? Just like that? He thought he had more time to talk with her. To catch up and chit-chat about everything that had happened over the past four months. To just be in a state of an easygoing and carefree life.

To honestly just _be_.

"Come with us," he blurted. There had to be a better way to say that, but there was no going back now. It really was a good option, to have her come along. An extra set of hands to help take down criminals, another brain to help come up with plans. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted it to happen. "You're going to be moving around again pretty soon and you were planning on leaving anyways. Why not just—"

"But what about your partner, Sven?" she asked. He blinked, not having expected that question. "Won't he be mad if you just randomly invite me to join your little group?"

"Sven's a cool guy. I'm pretty sure he won't mind," he said. Saya frowned and he backtracked. "I'll ask him about it if it really bugs you, but I really don't think he'll mind."

"You could be right, but it's better to ask," Saya said. Train had no idea why she suddenly seemed so off, but shrugged the matter away. He would ask Sven about it later and then get back to her on the subject, but until then…

"Bet you couldn't beat me in a milk race when we get back to Annette's."

"Oh, you are so on!"

This was more like it.

* * *

Sven awoke early the next morning, as he was often prone to do. His teeth were brushed, his suit nicely pressed, he was freshly shaven, and his hair fixed adequately before he left his room. He passed by the front of the store, nodding to Annette as he headed out to the shooting range. Those new bullets would not fire themselves and he did not want to use Hades as the standard this time. Orichalcum was, after all, the toughest metal out there and to test bullets inside such a sturdy casing was akin to testing them in a more controlled environment than what they would be used for. He needed to be sure that these bullets would be able to keep their cool in a normal gun just as well as that particular one.

Plus, he just needed time to think about the two conversations he had yesterday. One with Annette and one with Train after everyone else had gone to bed. The latter had really just been Train asking if Saya could join and Sven saying that he needed time to think on it.

The look on Train's face was something he had not expected. Plenty puzzled, certainly, but not quite so...apprehensive.

The shooting range was not too difficult to locate and even easier to utilize. He had to show his Sweeper license and prove he was who he said he was, but the access was worth the fifteen minute hassle to get in. He set his gun down to the side and laid out the bullets in an orderly fashion.

There were bullets that emitted a small shock upon impact, bullets that released a nonlethal yet potent sleeping gas, and bullets that were meant to explode on impact. All of them were very new concepts, but he wanted at least one of them to work.

" _You've worked on your own for years now, but how long will you last if you keep going that route?"_

Sven frowned as he loaded the first bullets into his gun. He was well-aware of the fact that he and Train had managed to take on higher classes of danger as a team than he could have ever hoped to attempt alone, but that young woman was just getting over an injury. His code of chivalry was fighting desperately to keep her out of the fight until she was one hundred percent. Aside from that, he also had no clue what she was capable of.

 _As much as I hate to admit it, she could be more of a liability than an asset,_ he thought.

He frowned as he took aim, his single eye looking over the target with ease. Twelve meters away with a small handgun. An easier shot than most, but he was not here to practice his accuracy.

He fired the shot and watched closely as the bullet left his gun, hurtling quickly towards the target. As expected, he hit his mark but it was impossible to gauge whether or not the electrical discharge had gone off. His frown deepened slightly. It was not like him to forget components of testing new bullets like this.

Another shot was fired in the range, but Sven paid it no heed. He wondered what he could do to test this electrical bullet.

 _Maybe I should have brought something that would show the electrical current. Fired into water and measured how much electricity went through that? Maybe, but any sort of electronic measurement is a bit difficult to work with right now when I don't have the right equipment. I'll brainstorm on it later and move to the next bullet._

The man sighed as he loaded the testing bullet. The sleeper bullet.

Two more sharp clangs were heard from the other shooter. Sven paid them no heed as he loaded the new shot in his gun. He aimed, pulled the trigger, and—

PAFF!

"Hey, are you okay over there?" the other shooter asked as Sven choked on a surplus of gas. He was glad he had decided to fill the bullet with a fake gas rather than the real thing. If he had, he would be passed out on the floor by now.

"I'm fine," he said, trying to waft the smoke away. When it finally dissipated he was faced with the relieved face of the girl from yesterday, Saya. He still had no clue what her last name was.

"That's a relief," she said. "You're Train's partner, Sven, right?"

"Sven Vollified. It's nice to meet you," he answered courteously, holding out the hand that had not been holding the gun. It had some sort of odd residue on it that he would have to inspect later and was therefore not appropriate for shaking hands. She returned the gesture with a firm grip and a cheerful smile.

"Saya Minatsuki, the pleasure's mine."

" _Point is that you're a part of a team now and you can choose to leave it behind or let it grow."_

"What are you doing here so early in the morning?" he asked, mentally shaking the first conversation from his mind. It would probably be more efficient to clean his gun and figure out what went wrong with the sleeper bullet before trying anything else. He took a chair to begin his task as he listened to Miss Minatsuki.

"I wanted to grab some practice in before I got out of my boot this afternoon," she answered. "What about you?"

"Just practicing some trick bullets," he answered. He was being evasive, but an inventor never gave away his secrets. He eyed the small pistol in her hands. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but how is it you're still firing a gun while injured like that?"

"I can't let myself get rusty," she answered, that smile still on her face. Sven nodded as though he understood her position. He did not, but his response seemed to appease her. She walked slowly back to her stall and aimed for her target. Three shots later and there was a tight grouping of bullet holes near the center of the diagram.

"Can I ask you something, Miss Minatsuki?" he asked, turning his attention back to his residue-laden gun. Two more shots went off.

"Just Saya is fine. And sure," she replied.

"How long have you been a sweeper?"

Sven had no idea why she suddenly started laughing. He glanced over to the girl to see that she had set her gun down when something had oddly enough tickled her funny bone. Something was clearly amusing to her and he waited for the chuckles to die out so she could answer.

"I thought you were going to ask me something really serious," she said with a shrug. It felt like an admittance of wrongdoing rather than an explanation, but he let it slide. "I've been sweeping for about four years now. And you?"

"Three."

"Really? You work with your gun as though you've known it half your life," she said. Sven raised an eyebrow. "Most people who own a gun don't go the extra mile to make their own bullets. Much less sweepers who don't have the extra time or money to do that sort of thing."

An acute observation. "I used to work for the IBI."

"That's cool."

The gun now disassembled, Sven set to work on cleaning each individual part. It was also a good time to take inventory when he heard two more bursts of sound. He glanced over to see that she had aimed far off to the left of her target, confusing him. He was about to ask why when she repositioned and shot far off to the right. He watched as the bullet hit a steel corner, bounced off, and made a hole right beside the bulls-eye. His eye widened as she quickly maneuvered and took three more shots like that, all in successive fire.

"Any particular reason for showing off?" he asked. While quick, her motions had been too flashy to be perfectly practical. As he guessed it, she smiled sheepishly.

"I got the feeling that maybe you thought I would have been useless on your guys' team. Oh, but I was already practicing anyways, so I figured why not just practice a few techniques that I think can be useful. And since you were here anyways I thought that maybe if you saw what I could do in a boot you'd think I was gonna be more useful without it. I really didn't expect to find you here and I really was just going to practice this morning before I got my boot off and—are you seriously laughing at me?"

Sven did his best to pass his chuckle at her antics off as a slight cough. She frowned but did not go off as he thought she might have. Instead, she took a deep breath and calmed herself down.

"As a gentleman, it is rude to laugh at a lady," Sven finally said. He turned his attention back to the gun at hand, thinking over the brief interaction and newfound knowledge he had of her. She was not new to the game, knew how to get basic information, and was a good shot. He could not say much on her personality yet as they had just officially met, however...

"The plan is to leave tomorrow. There's a bounty over in Terra that looks decent," he said, finally clearing away the last of the grime from the recoil spring. The darn thing was always stubborn when it came to clearing away dirt and soot. "Make sure you're ready."

"Yes, sir!"

With that, she took one last shot and he went back to his cleaning. As she reloaded, he hoped this would be the beginning of a decent partnership.

 _ **AmyNChan: I know not a whole lot happens in this chapter, but there's a reason for this whole thing with Sven that wasn't in the last story.**_

 _ **Sven: In the last version, I met Saya while she was uninjured and in a fight. She immediately registered as an equal, and then again when we all faced off with Kimblee—**_

 _ **AmyNChan: *face palms* I still can't believe I did that... Kimblee is one of the most kickbutt villains from FMABH and I stuck him in a Black Cat fic and didn't even give him his due credit... faaaaaail...**_

 _ **Sven: In any event, I knew what she could accomplish. Having her join the team then was an easy decision. This go-around, however, she was a complete stranger. Accepting her to be a part of the team—as injured as she is—is a huge risk. By the end, it is something I have to accept.**_

 _ **AmyNChan: I still ended up paying homage to FMABH in this chapter. You guys can look for it if you'd like. XD**_

 _ **Sven: All of this to say that in the next chapter we will be fast forwarding to where the original manga begins. Also, why make a point to make me freshly shaven?**_

 _ **Fellow fan: have you**_ _ **seen**_ _ **you with facial hair? I have!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: *nods in agreement* It's creepy!**_

 _ **Sven: *frowns***_

 _ **AmyNChan: In any event, please be ready for the time skip! And thank you guys for reading and please review~! *^_^***_


	10. Chapter 10

_**AmyNChan: Oh, before I say anything else, there's one thing I wanna clear up.**_

 _ **Saya: What's that?**_

 _ **AmyNChan: In the last version, I had you go on and on about lemonade.**_

 _ **Saya: I remember.**_

 _ **AmyNChan: Well, at the time, I thought that 'ramune' was just a terrible pronunciation of 'lemonade', so that's what I thought you were saying. Since then, I've learned. I've evolved. XD**_

 _ **Saya: XD Ramune is a sugary festival drink, kind of like a soda.**_

 _ **AmyNChan: Well, I know that now. I'm just explaining the difference that is sure to come (if I include the ramune thing at all). XD**_

 _ **Saya: AmyNChan doesn't own Black Cat or—at the moment—any ramune!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: did you have to remind me…?**_

"Don't move. Not one inch," Train warned, the barrel of Hades resting calmly against the sweaty forehead of a cornered con.

"Sadon Colney," Sven announced, garnering the man's attention with his hands in his pockets. "Punk explosives expert. You're coming to the station with us."

"Y-you're not cops," the man stuttered. Even she could hear it from as far away as she was. She kept the man in her sights, not wavering in the slightest. "Who are you?"

"Sweepers, mercenaries…" Train said by way of introduction. "Stray cats."

She smiled as she rolled her eyes at how dramatic the man could be.

* * *

"I really didn't have to stay at a distance after all," Saya complained as she and Train waited for Sven to return with the cash. "I could have used my Beretta instead."

"Both of your guns are Beretta," Train pointed out, grinning when she gave a playfully small scowl. Alas, his grin was infectious and she could not even pretend to remain angry at him for long. She gave a slight chuckle as she cast a glance to the sky, its unending vastness enticing to her freedom-driven mind. The thought of how free she was, moving from place to place with two guys she considered best friends, brought a smile to her face.

"I guess they are."

"Hey!" Train called out. Saya turned to find the white-clad gentleman taking a puff of a new cigarette as he walked to the car. "How much, Svenny-baby? What'd we get for him?"

"Hey, I'm your partner, not your Svenny-baby. Save it for Saya," the man scolded, huffing on his cigarette. When he had started making such comments half a year ago, they would have both blushed furiously and denied that sort of interaction. Now they simply laughed it off. Life was too short to waste worrying on simple thing. "Including expenses, eight thousand bucks. He wasn't as big as we thought…"

"Eight thousand?" Train chirped, the look on his face positively spelling out trouble. Saya began to move for the emergency supplies. "What's the problem? That's great! We haven't had a decent meal in ages!"

"Not so fast, we haven't had anything in ages," Sven admonished as he took a drag on his cigarette. Saya continued to root through the trunk as he continued. "At least half of this money is already spoken for. Car payment, stakeout expenses..."

"Aw, c'mon. Let's just blow this one. They say money makes the world go 'round, right?" Train asked. Saya was not surprised and could practically envision the smirk on his face as he attempted to sway their partner into a fancy meal. "C'mon, I'm star—"

"If you're really that hungry you can make do with a few sandwiches," Saya intervened, pulling the cooler out at long last. It had been buried under Sven's mobile bullet maker. She saw her friend wilt out of the corner of her eye and smirked. Yeah, like putting the cooler under the most heavy thing they owned would keep her from pulling it out.

Nice try, Train.

"You know, I get the feeling we'd be in a lot worse shape if you weren't around," Sven admitted as he accepted a sandwich with thanks. Saya grinned.

"I'm sure you would have thought of something to curb his appetite eventually," she said. Train frowned.

"Guys, I'm still here."

"We know."

Saya laughed as her friend huffed in false indignation. To be deprived of a good meal and then to be made fun of on top of that? She heard him mutter about how mean his friends were but she knew he did not mean a word of it.

Okay, maybe a little, but that was all in good fun. She grinned as she piled his sandwich high. He would forgive her.

"So, Sven, any targets in town worth catching?" she asked as she passed the finished dish to Train. As she expected, he grinned at the amount of food and dug in eagerly. Sven, on the other hand, exhaled sharply. He tossed aside a few pamphlets he had brought out from the station. They landed on the hood of the car and stayed there.

"All of them are small potatoes, nobody worth more than ten thousand," he said. "Not worth our time."

"So we'll go someplace else," Train chimed in from devouring his meal. Saya finished creating her own sandwich—a few snacks cleverly concealed within—and took a bite. He certainly looked excited when he continued. "Bigger city, bigger prey, more money, more danger... more fun!"

"As long as 'fun' doesn't mean shooting up another bakery," Saya teased. "We had to pay them back for all the damages and missing food, remember?"

"It was empty," Train defended. "And it wasn't even that bad."

"Sure. Not like you helped yourself to the wheat bread either," she grinned.

"I'm not the one who snagged a few of the cookies."

"Hey!"

* * *

"What news?"

"Train Heartnet has been found."

"After so long?"

"He has been evading us for the past two years. It is possible he has been working to conspire against us."

"His revolt led to the abandonment of Creed Diskenth, and several erasers have attempted to leave us since."

"The idea of his survival—while a fading idea—sparks insubordination among older and more experienced of our ranks. This is something that must be dealt with."

"Allowing his release, regardless of the circumstances and mystery surrounding it, was a foolish mistake. Mistakes in Chronos should be resolved swiftly and firmly."

"Agreed."

"Seconded."

"I will call Number I."

* * *

Sven walked out of the bathroom with a sigh. It was nice to be able to freshen up once in a while and he felt he could trust the two of them to not—

"…but he told me I wasn't allowed to use the roof unless I could prove it," Saya was saying.

"Didn't you have your license on you?" asked Train.

"I did, but that—oh, Sven!" The girl appeared to have just noticed his entrance and this did little for his confidence in their abilities in observation. He frowned. How could he have trusted them to not goof off?

"Don't 'oh, Sven' me," he scolded. Sometimes he wondered if they were adults or actually children in disguise. Dangerous, well-armed children in disguise. "I told you two to stay alert."

"You were in the bathroom too long," Train pointed out as Saya took a sip of her drink. "Got the runs?"

As a gentleman, Sven handed Saya a napkin after hearing her choke slightly on her ramune. He need not defend himself as the girl did it for him. "Really, Train?"

"What? It's a good question."

Now was his moment to step in with the truth. "I was fixing my hair."

"But you always wear a hat," Train pointed out. Sven scowled. Did he ever take anything seriously?

"So what? What if he'd gotten away?" the experienced sweeper asked, observing the two with a slightly reprimanding eye. "You two were the ones who wanted this guy."

"I know," Train said. The smug grin on his face was one Sven had seen before, the look of mischief that would listen to no amount of opposing reason, regardless of how logical said reason was.

"Pado Reed," Saya added on, being the only one who actually thought of reason to counteract whatever Sven said in favor of their mischief. "He's a legend among the dine 'n dashers. He's always in disguise and he's hit over two thousand restaurants and bars. It's been said that his motto is 'no server is safe!'."

"He's not worth it," Sven restated, attempting—and most likely failing once again—to use his own reasoning in this situation. "His reward won't feed us for more than a day or two. Plus, we'd have to catch him in the act. This is stupid…"

"Now, now," Train said with a grin. The green haired sweeper knew he should not have expected logic to work with the duo anyways. They had spent the better part of three days convincing him to do this particular gig. "He's overconfident! He's never been busted. It'll be fun to bring him down, don't you think?"

Fun. Train's sole reason for anything that Sven found particularly strange. He looked to Saya for help, though he did not know why he bothered. It was obvious that she had agreed with Train on this one from the get-go. He was outmatched.

"You two are so…"

"Just watch," Train chimed from his relaxed position. Saya, for her part, was also enjoying the calm ambiance of the resturaunt. Sven kept his eye on the glutton and the trickster for a few minutes more and sighed.

 _These two are going to be the death of me._

* * *

"So this is it, Torneo?"

"Yes. The pinnacle of all my work… The ultimate bio-weapon, my girl, Eve!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Eve."

"She is completely obedient, perfect for my uses."

"And for our cause?"

"She will be ready to assist you whenever you need her. The drug you might also need is still in production, but there should be no reason to use it until later."

"I see. Well then, I suppose she shall remain with you for training until I require her. That was, after all, the arrangement."

"Of course!"

* * *

"I can't pay!"

The cry was caught by all sweeping ears in the room as the poor waiter was shoved off to the side in the haste of a criminal's escape. Train wasted no time in giving chase.

"Sven—pay our tab!" he cried out as he left the building, the only thing in his field of vision being a recently relabeled dine 'n dash criminal. The man was obviously accustomed to quick escapes after big meals, turning and ducking whenever he had the chance. Train felt a burst of adrenaline hit him as he sprinted all the faster.

This was so much fun.

"You think you can outrun me, huh?" the sweeper yelled, the rush fueling his taunting. "Not in a million bazillion years!"

"Train!"

He could hear the clacking of Saya's _geta_ and the harsh slap of Sven's soles as the two caught up to him. Sven sounded irritated, but when didn't he?

Might as well poke fun at the grizzly bear.

"Hey, Svenny-baby! That was quick," Train grinned before he turned to Saya. "I thought you were already on my tail? You're getting slower."

" _Someone_ had to pay the tab," Saya quipped back with a smirk. Train's eyes widened as he turned to Sven.

"You made a lady pay for your meal? Isn't that against your code?"

"I didn't eat!"

Reed turned into another alleyway with the group of sweepers hot on his tail. This would have been the third time in a matter of minutes had it not been for the suspicious thud which accompanied this go-around. When the trio reached the corner, a familiar voice emerged from the shadows.

"Pathetic. Why even bother with this one?" the voice said in a dull tone. Train watched as the face—aged by two years—came into view. It was now pale and drawn, deep circles of restlessness under his eyes. Those were the eyes of a reluctant killer. "Train."

"Cleaver."

"What…?" Sven wondered aloud. "You know him?"

"Yeah… From my days as a house cat. He joined after I did," Train mentioned. He glanced to the ground, their target bleeding out on the street with a short knife protruding from his chest. Train immediately recognized it as his old friend's.

 _This is a message_ , he realized. There was no reason for a dine 'n dash criminal to have a Chronos eraser on his tail. They must have been after him. He glanced to his partners with slight apology.

"Sorry, guys. Could you give us a minute?" he asked. He could tell Saya wanted to protest, but he hoped she would not. He was not about to get into a fight. "Cleaver and I need to catch up."

"Do we have a choice?" Sven grumbled. Train could tell that Saya was reluctantly agreeing with the flow of events. "We'll take him to the hospital. Maybe he'll live…"

Both of his partners were letting him do this. Though not typically an issue with Sven, it could be a challenge with Saya every once in a while. However, no matter how much she seemed to want to disagree with him on some things, she always let him run around in his own way without too much of a fuss. She let her opinion be known and then gave him control over what he chose. Not like she had any control anyways, but the space she gave him was something he always appreciated.

And he was grateful to them both for their understanding.

"Thanks."

* * *

The order from Chronos superiors had been surprising, and even more surprising was the fact that Sepheria herself—the leader of the Chronos Numbers—had personally asked him to undertake this mission. She had specified that Train Heartnet was to be offered a choice—she had made that crystal clear.

Even if she had not asked, it would have been something he would do anyways. He respected Train and his abilities as an eraser too much to not give him that opportunity.

"Honestly, I was shocked," he said as he kept a steady eye on the man who had vanished from his sights two years ago. "A person of your abilities becoming…a sweeper?"

He was aware of the disgust dripping from his lips as he uttered the word. What was the point in catching the prey if not to kill it?

"Honestly, I was shocked, too, Cleaver," Train said. The familiarity was not lost on him. "You just go around stabbing people now?"

What was this? Shame? He looked out over the bridge, an image coming to mind of Train several years ago, when his black mantle hung about him like the shroud of death itself. Someone to be respected and feared, especially in their line of work.

"Well, I try. I want to be like you, after all," Clever said. Another moment was spent wondering if he had, in fact, managed to become a bit like Train after all. "It's been two years since you left Chronos. The new erasers are told you died, but the older ones know better."

"Is that so?"

How was he acting so nonchalantly about this? He knew what was at stake, did he not?

"I want you to come back, Black Cat," he said. It was as frank as he could possibly be with as much sincerity as he knew how to muster in that single sentence. For a moment, he saw the Train he had once looked up to and respected flash across this strange sweeper's face. "In the two years since you disappeared, Chronos has expanded. We control one third of the world's economy, but we have enemies. Chronos still needs a fighting power like you."

"Enough," the man said, the suspicious glint long gone from his catlike irises. His posture was relaxed as he continued to speak. "Chronos has been putting out the story that they killed the Black Cat when he tried to escape two years ago. I haven't fought them on that because they're right."

"Train…" How could he make him see? "You had everything as an eraser. Anything that was necessary for your life, you could own. Your skills were never squandered on useless targets and you actually made a difference. What happened to change—"

"Nothing happened," Train said, interrupting Cleaver. He truly wanted to know. What suddenly made—

"Train!" he shouted. The man could not walk away right now. He had orders!

"I left Chronos because I was tired of following orders," he said simply. As if such a declaration were so simple. "The Black Cat died and came back a stray."

 _Train_ , he silently pleaded. _Don't say it…_

"I serve no master now."

The final words that would go on his epitaph. Cleaver would remember them well.

"I was afraid you would say that," he admitted as he withdrew his gun from its holster. But even as he knew he had to kill this man, one look at the back of his head knocked his aim off just the tiniest bit. Just enough to warn him. Not enough to kill him.

Could he…?

"What was that?" Cleaver saw the deadly eyes of the Black Cat as he asked that question. It gave him confidence.

"If I can't bring you back, I'll have to kill you. Council's orders…" he said. For whose benefit, he was not sure, but it was a point that needed to be addressed.

"I figured as much. You're on a mission, after all," Train said. The killing intent had faded away from his eyes once more and it seemed like such an action was taking Cleaver's resolve along with it.

"You know too much, it's too dangerous to let you walk away. Threats to Chronos must be eliminated…" Cleaver knew he was rambling, but he had to build his nerve back up. The word the elders had used earlier trickled into the back of his mind.

 _Mistake_.

Train's continued existence on this earth had been a mistake. It was up to him to fix that.

"I will kill you." His resolve was firm.

The expression on the person he once so respected was one that would have torn him to shreds. He had no need of pity. "You really have changed, Cleaver…"

"Make your choice carefully," said the assassin. This man before him would no longer bear the name of the man he once respected. He would cut all mental ties. This was no longer a friend, but a target. An accidental pencil mark that would need to be erased unless it proved useful. "Return to Chronos or die."

"I do not intend to change the way I live, but…" Cleaver's finger held steady on the trigger. Targets were allowed to plead for their lives. "Neither will I stand here and let you take me down."

 _He thinks this will be easy…_ Cleaver thought, irritated. He was a threat! A viable threat! Why else would Number I have chosen _him_ for this mission?

"Don't mistake me for the man I was two years ago. I've erased countless enemies of Chronos since you last saw me," Cleaver warned. When his words did nothing to affect the man's stance, he knew. There was no fear. There was nothing to take from this man by taking his life. There was nothing to gain.

Except the security of Chronos. And that was what he fought for. What Train had once fought for. He would have followed that man anywhere if it meant being as great as he. But now… But now…

"You may be fine with pursing petty criminals for puny rewards, but I'm not!" he shouted. He was going to be as great as the legendary Black Cat, the one he had been able to speak with for a short time, the one—

"And yet you debase yourself for Chronos? You look tired. Is it worth it?" the man asked. Cleaver's eyes widened. Tired? How could he be— His health was fine. After all, he— He—

"You're the one who needs to think carefully," the man in front of him said. Despite attempting to distance himself from the target, the firm voice and his advice reminded him of the Train long ago. The one who was helping a Chronos paperboy become something greater. Now…

"You're not cut out for this."

"Don't say that," Cleaver hissed. This man had once inspired him to do something great with his life. Something meaningful and important to Chronos.

"I'll…"

And now.

"I'll…"

He was going to show this man just how far he had come!

"I'll do it!"

Cleaver pulled his gun. He saw Train pull his. He saw the surprise flicker behind the eyes of a once great killer. But there was no hate, no malice. No spark of bloodlust.

The final moment of his life was filled with sorrow. Sorrow that was not his own. Filled with regret. Regret which he completely owned. Train was right. He was tired.

He did not feel the bullet slam through his skull.

* * *

"Train, what happened?"

"He left."

A silence between three friends.

"I see."

"Should we go to the next town?"

"I don't see why not. The dine 'n dash dude is going to live and we made some money on him. Wanna grab a bite to eat?"

"Really? In that case, I'm craving fine dining and seafood!"

"We didn't make that much!"

"Come on, guys…"

 _ **AmyNChan: Okay, I spent forever trying to get this to work and I hope it is! Saya is a part of team Sweepers!**_

 _ **Saya: Oh, heck yes!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: In any event, I gotta dash (not a criminal, I swear! XD)! Catch ya'll later~! *^_^***_

 _ **Saya: Please don't forget to leave a review!**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**AmyNChan: Okay, soo.. *gets tomatoes thrown at***_

 _ **Saya: Hey!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: No, I deserved that...**_

 _ **Saya: What?!**_

 _ **AmyNChan: I've had this chapter done for a bit now, but I never found time to post it...**_

 _ **Saya: *frowns at AmyNChan***_

 _ **AmyNChan: I know... bad Amy... Still, I hope this works for you guys!**_

 _ **Saya: If you owned Black Cat, it would have never been finished.**_

 _ **AmyNChan: ...sad but true.**_

Life constantly on the move had drained Annette over the past couple of years. She had frequently jumped from location to location, finding a prime spot for a bar every time. She decided early on that she had made a good decision to switch from restaurant to bar for _Caffe Cait Sith_ , as evidenced by the massive amounts of information she typically received as a barista rather than as a waitress.

Of course, being a bar had its own troubles as well. She could not open until a certain time in order to help enforce the idea of responsible adults. She scoffed at the thought, but there was nothing she could do. A law was a law.

Therefore, even though she could have personally thrown out anyone who decided to waltz into her bar at noon when the opening time was clearly one in the afternoon, she decided that all she would do was lazily enforce the sign. Her pike was behind the counter if she needed it, in any event.

"Hey," she called out as she was drying a dish. "We're not open yet!"

"Don't be so harsh, Annette," a familiar voice came from behind the bar. "We're starving!"

"Oh," she stated, thoroughly unimpressed. "It's you three again."

"Yo," Sven stated as he followed Train inside the shop. Behind him came—

"Hey, aren't you glad to see us, Annette?" Saya asked as she closed the door behind her. Annette gave the group a once-over. The last two years had done well for them as a team. Not much in the way of physical growth, but the fact that they all walked in with a sense of equality was great enough.

"Not unless you're paying a tab," she remarked. Still, she shoved away from the bar and turned towards the dispensary. "So it's the usual, then? Sake, milk, and a ramune?"

"And rice balls! Rice balls with salmon!" Train called out. Annette rolled her eyes as she brought the drinks out. She would charge it to their tab as per usual.

"Rice balls… who else would come to my shop and order rice balls?" Annette wondered aloud. She should have known Train would only chuckle. Zero guilt whatsoever with that one. She placed the drinks on the bar. "It's been a long time. You usually call wanting information… hadn't heard from you, so I figured you gotten yourselves killed."

Sven let out what could only be surmised as a self-satisfied scoff. "We're not that easy to get rid of."

"Yeah, we're not dead yet," Train responded cheerfully.

"But how many cases have you blown?" Saya asked, snark fully in place. Train frowned at the girl, who merely deflected the sour attitude with a grin. Annette shook her head at their antics.

"So living off the streets as usual, eh?" she asked. "I heard Chronos was looking for you…guess I shouldn't have worried."

"Wow," Train said, eyes wide and looking as though he had not just been indirectly accused with being gunned down. "You're good, Annette."

"Never underestimate a former sweeper," Annette stated. Her eyes grazed over the three friends and the thought of them possibly having to hunt down the other sometime in the future pained her. She supposed that must have been what Train was going through and told him as such. "Can't say I envy you, though. All your old pals are gunning for you… but I guess you made your choice, huh?"

Annette could only watch as Train took an extremely rare moment of seriousness in her little bar.

* * *

"Help me!" a voice cried from the doorway. Saya turned along with everyone else to see a woman at the door, gulping in breaths of air as her eyes frantically searched the room.

Blonde, somewhat tall, odd taste in clothes, green eyes.

The girl darted into the room, completely bypassed Saya, and latched directly onto Train.

How.

Dare.

She?!

"Please!" she whined annoyingly. "I'm being chased by big scary men! Help me!"

"No." Never had that word sounded more satisfying to Saya's ears than it did right there. Of course she knew it was more because his stomach was speaking, but she was ever grateful for it just the same.

"Wh-why not?" the girl stammered. Saya chuckled and figured she would have her own brand of fun.

"Maybe because he doesn't like half-dressed girls with poorly inserted contact lenses getting in between him and a good meal," she said. Instantly, the girl tensed up, whirling on her in a single moment.

 _This girl fights_ , Saya realized. In just one moment, she could see it. The burning desire to take her down with her own bare hands. Saya smirked as the tension rose ever higher. The dare was palpable.

 _Go ahead. Make your move._

"Sven, what gives? If I said that, you'd be kicking my butt in a heartbeat. Where's that chivalry code you're so proud of?" Train asked in the background, tuning out the two girls. Saya could see Sven shake his head.

"I may be a gentleman, but every man should know better than to get in the middle of a cat fight."

Train appeared to consider her words. Saya could see the strange girl's eyes turn back towards him, a look of interest obvious in her eyes. Saya could feel her eyebrow twitch. "By the way, green really isn't your color."

"Look who's talking. You—"

"Where'd she go?!" a voice called from the outside.

"She's in that shop!" another shouted. Everyone turned to see a group of four boys standing outside the bar. They had baggy clothes, weapons, piercings, and snarky grins. The group seemed to be itching for a fight. Or looking for this girl.

Saya sighed. As annoying as she found the girl, she would not leave her to be beaten at the hands of some gang wannabe boys. "Who are they?"

Gee, Saya, great job at sounding overly concerned. You should get a medal.

Okay, she was done being sarcastic now.

"I-I don't know. They just started coming after me for no reason," she answered, playing up the part of a damsel in distress. Saya rolled her eyes. This girl was a terrible actress. "What do I do now? I outran them once, but…"

Saya could recognize a hook and a line when she saw one. She could have ripped her hair out when Train fell for it.

"Aw man," he complained. At least he was complaining about it. He stood and turned to their friend. "Annette! I'm gonna go throw out some trash. Have the rice balls ready for me, will you?"

"Yeah, sure," Annette said. She looked like she could not care one way or the other. Saya knew she probably did not. Wannabes were no real threat for anyone in the room. Probably the damsel in distress included. "But I don't want anyone dying in front of my shop, okay?"

"I'm not gonna die," Train returned.

"I wasn't talking about you," the shop owner said. Saya smirked. While Annette had been her usual blunt self, the girl in the shop just seemed lost. It was a very entertaining expression.

Train left the shop with no preamble, giving the wannabes a light warning. While the newcomer squawked about his odds of success against four thugs—heh, as if they could actually be real thugs!—she merely watched him do his thing. A kick to the face and a few dodged bullets were enough to spook the group into a frenzied mess.

Saya was aware of Sven interrogating the woman behind her. She knew he was exposing her gun and inquiring as to her true identity. She also knew it was probably best to leave that sort of questioning to him. He, after all, had been the detective. She, for now, was the sniper.

Over the course of the past two years, she had found herself becoming the long-range set of eyes. She now knew how to track battles from a further distance and was able to find small points that could make or break a tight situation.

The 'leader' from the gang was obviously being played by Train. She watched as her best friend would ease off of him in order to go after a few of his 'comrades'. There were no broken bones, just a touch of torn skin, a swollen eye or two, a numbing hit to the shoulder, and a blur that was far too fast for normal eyes to follow. The gang was a series of puppets on strings, and if she knew what was going on, then—

"You gotta be kidding! This wasn't in our contract!" one of the guys shouted as he fled. Bingo. "This stupid charade is over!"

Saya looked to the door. The young woman was particularly calm as Sven led her outside. With little regard to their meal growing cold on the counter top, Saya followed.

* * *

"I'd like an explanation, miss," the one with the brown hair said. The Black Cat. The one who had somehow escaped and lived to tell about it. The stories say he died, but this girl had sources that claimed otherwise. Sources that had led her here, seeking the help of a dead man.

"You really are something else," she appraised. "You and your pistol. I guess my informants knew what they were talking about."

The Black Cat. The former IBI. And she was not sure how exactly a girl like _her_ had gotten lumped in with the likes of _them_. Her sources had mentioned that her range was impressive with her gun, but there was almost nothing on the accomplishments of this girl. She was a typical sweeper. A typical woman. She was the add-on.

"I like you two," she said, focusing on her prey. "A lot."

She watched as they all appraised her. Frowns galore. Perfect.

"You were right," she added on, removing the bobby pins from her wig. "I put those thugs up to it. Consider it a bit of mischief. I just needed to know if you two were the real thing. All I had to do was bat my eyelashes and they were on board, really."

She had to give herself credit where it was due. That silly little gang had been all too easy to manipulate. And if not them, any other small time gang would have done nicely. She held the blonde wig aloft in her hand, smiling at the thought of another job well done.

"Oh," she said, recalling that these people had not seen her true face before and an introduction was probably in order. "I always work in disguise. Don't worry about it. If my cover is blown, I'm out of a job."

"…just who are you?" the Black Cat asked. She smiled brightly. Just the person she hoped would ask.

"Rins," she answered simply. "Rinslet Walker. I'm a thief for hire. Ever heard of me?"

So she was being smug, so what? The reaction she got from mister IBI was an indicator of just how hard she had worked for the reputation she had. Narrowed eyes and instant suspicion let her know that at least he would take her and her offer seriously.

"So… you three, you're sweepers, right?" she asked. There was no need, she already knew that answer. She plowed on ahead. "I have a little business proposal for you. A partnership."

"What kind of criminal business would need the help of sweepers?" the girl asked. Rinslet felt her eyebrow twitch. This girl absolutely rubbed her the wrong way, but her sources led her to believe she was part of the deal. This thief would just have to accommodate her in her little ploy.

"The kind that needs the man who was once feared by the most powerful leaders on the planet," she stated. Matter-of-fact. Objective. She turned her attention to her target. "I need the Black Cat."

She let her statement hang in the air for a moment. The IBI man was looking her over carefully. That was fine. The girl had a look of intense distrust on her face. The feeling was mutual, honestly. The Black Cat—

"Heh," he laughed. He looked almost too annoyed to be properly surprised. "You know who I am and you still want to team up?"

"Yup," she chirped. Why else would she go through all the trouble?

"She's gutsy…"

"Hey, didn't you just say you're a theif?" IBI asked. There was no need to give him an answer. He already knew. "So you're that Rinslet Walker…?"

"You've heard of her?" the girl asked. Rinslet decided she could be patient as the man rattled off a list of her accomplishments. And she honestly needed to know where she stood in the realm of crime at the moment. If she needed to take a few more large heists or blend in with the shadows. As it turned out, her reputation was fine. Wide range of clients (true), a certain price (true), and absolutely infamous (still true!).

"Since you know me so well, let's cut to the chase, shall we?" the thief-for-hire asked. Of course, she needed no answer as she simply plowed straight through in her explanation. "I'm starting on a huge job right now, too big for me to handle by myself. So… I decided I needed a couple of sweepers to help me get the job done."

"Look Walker," the Black Cat said. His expression while waving his finger in the air was actually kind of funny. "We're legitimate professionals. We can't get mixed up in a heist!"

"I'm not asking you to. You'd just be doing your jobs as sweepers," she said, pulling the photograph from her pocket. They would know of Torneo Rudman, the crime boss who had disappeared into hiding a couple of years ago. His crime ring was still very active and worth quite a handsome price. Of course, while they landed their hands on him, she would land her mitts on…

"My target is the research data he's been collecting. I got as far as finding him—which was no easy task!—but his mansion's protected by a massive security system. I can't breach it alone," she explained. She smirked as it became obvious what their roles in this temporary partnership were. "But that's where you come in! I'm the brains and you're the muscle, together we can make it happen!"

The girl let out a laugh that she did not bother to hide. Rinslet glowered at her but she merely kept up her oh so innocent act. Rinslet narrowed her eyes. That woman was mocking her! How dare she!?

"And you're what, a saint?" the girl asked, mirth in her eyes. "You've got a criminal record. What's to stop us from taking _you_ in and collecting _your_ bounty?"

"As soon as you can prove it," Rinslet responded. She had to remind herself that she was a grown woman and sticking her tongue out at this girl would solve literally nothing. She could hold this win above her head, though. "Since the government is a client of mine, I have security. Acknowledging my crimes would only cast theirs into light. There won't be any bounty on me, but you can waste your time looking for one if you want."

The girl frowned heavily and glowered in the thief's direction. Point for Rinslet.

She turned back to the others, who were still contemplating her offer. If she had anything to say about it, they would be turning the offer over in their minds for the next few days.

And yes, she had something to say about it.

"So you have two choices. Either take a gamble and join me, or run away like cowards."

She could tell that she had touched on a nerve. Good. That would stick with them for a while. She turned on her heel and began to walk away. "If you're in, meet me in the Republic of Sapidoa in three days. If you're scared, don't show. See if I care. Ciao!"

She walked down the street, victory in her every footfall. Honesty about the disguise, clarity on the job, a soft blow to the pride.

In her eyes, it was a hook, line, and sinker. She would see them again in three days.

* * *

"Wow, it's been so long since we used this place," Saya said. She immediately went to what she had dubbed as her 'favorite chair' last time they were here and took a seat. Train made his way to the windows, blinking against the setting sun.

"I figured it'd be wrecked by now," the brown haired sweeper admitted. Sven shook his head as he sat on the couch by the table.

"Annette's been looking after it for us," he reminded the duo. The eldest sweeper watched as recognition flitted through their faces. Saya's in a nod and Train's in a pointed 'oh'.

"There's nothing to eat, though!" the young man exclaimed.

"Of course not. It's been a month since we were here," Sven said as he pulled out a cigarette. "All the emergency rations have spoilt."

"If you're really hungry, we've still got some snacks in the car. We can have those tonight and go shopping tomorrow," Saya pointed out. Sven nodded. He would rather not do anything else for the day and he knew that Saya had something of nutritional value in that snack pile. You know, somewhere.

"Why do we need to shop?" Train asked. "We're not gonna be here that long anyway."

Sven took a long drag on his cigarette as he observed his friend. The young man had an innocent look about him, but his experiences told the green haired sweeper that only trouble was coming their way. He let the smoke fly free from his mouth, letting it billow as he considered his next words.

"Train, you're not serious about considering an alliance…with that girl?"

Sven knew the look in his partner's eye. He was.

He turned to Saya, curious as to what she thought of their odd encounter for the day. He was not too terribly surprised to see her frowning in her chair, arms crossed before her.

"I don't trust her," she stated. That much, to Sven, was obvious. He felt the same way. Rinslet Walker was a woman with nothing to lose and everything to gain by way of crime. She could get away with a lot in the eyes of the law, and that made her a dangerous person to exist. As a friend or as a foe.

"Well, we can't just walk away," Train reasoned. Sven turned to see him open the nearest window and enjoy the scenery for a moment.

"We can't?" he asked. Sven waited for some sort of explanation while Train let out a playful 'bang'. Not a moment later, Hades had been drawn into his hand and a shot had been released deep into the woods.

"Come on, guys," Train said, turning back into the room with a smile as if nothing had happened. "The risk is almost as high as the reward. We have to do it! Besides, that woman thinks she can con us."—here, Train's face took on a darker expression. An expression of a brawler looking forward to a fight—"If we back down, it'll ruin my rep."

Sven considered Train's words and looked over at Saya. The woman had a look of satisfaction on her face, somehow swayed to go along with Train's insane idea of the alliance. Clearly outnumbered—and honestly a little intrigued on how this would work himself—he released a breath of smoke.

"Fine, let's do it," he agreed, snuffing out the cigarette. "Reasoning with you only works half the time anyways."

* * *

"Your security is very tight, Boss Torneo."

"Heh. Yes, well… there have been so many spies and sweepers after me lately…"

"That is a nuisance. I quite sympathize."

"Please… I have no troubles compared to yours. The government and Chronos are both after you… I cannot imagine what you must go through."

"Ha ha… And yet, you come to my aid. You are a man of dangerous whims."

"Heh… no, no. This is no whim. I believe you can take my million-dollar "Hand of God" project and bring it to fruition. To destroy this dull old world."

A knowing smirk. A sense of accomplishment. A puppet in the back room.

* * *

The airport was large and crowded. The masses were constantly shifting from people making their way to the baggage claim, to the gates, or simply to the doors. Of course, with a population of 1.2 million, perhaps Sapidoa was meant to be busy.

Train spotted her almost instantly.

"Yoo hoo," she called from her spot against the wall, a grin that was meant to be sly on her face. "Go figure, I didn't think you'd actually show up."

"Liar," Sven muttered from the left, a cigarette already between his lips. "You knew we'd come, that's why you're here."

"Quit trying to be cute," Train added. It was honestly a little amusing to watch her try to play coy with them. They knew she was manipulative. She was obviously aware that they knew. It was also obvious that she did not care.

"Oh, come on. Don't be mean," she said, standing away from the wall. "Anyway, I haven't eaten yet. Hungry?"

Train smirked. "Always."

 _ **AmyNChan: I don't know when the next chapter will be out, but I am working on it.**_

 _ **Saya: *frowning at AmyNChan still***_

 _ **AmyNChan: ehe... ^^; In any event, please read and review... yeah... XD**_


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